Batman: Defender of Gotham
by Gimili101
Summary: AU. My episodic spin on the Batman mythos. Enjoy.
1. Love and War

Note: these stories are not based on any official Batman or DC Comics continuity. They are their own self-contained universe. So when you see continuity variations from the current cinematic universe, comic books, video games, whichever version you prefer, don't be surprised.

 **Batman's perspective:**

It had been two years since Bruce Wayne first started wearing a bat-like costume and fighting crime. Two years of patrol, detective work, and of course, ambushing the criminal element of Gotham City. So far so good. Crime had steadily decreased over the last two years. But this wasn't enough. What happened to Bruce's parents twenty-one years before was still happening to a lot of people. Until Gotham was a more or less peaceful town, the mission was still a work in progress.

At some point during these six months the local media had dubbed him "The Batman." He hadn't actually cared what anyone called him. The only reason he dressed like a bat was because people are afraid of dark symbols. Well, that and Bruce could see bats every time he set foot in the aptly named Batcave under Wayne Manor. In any event, most criminals seemed afraid of the one called Batman so he embraced the name.

Standing on a rooftop, Batman could see two men walking to a nearby electronics store just as it had closed up. Hmm... a little too attentive for unfortunate customers. They even had winter caps to partially conceal their heads without looking suspicious. Batman kept an eye out. Sure enough, he could see the men leaving out the back door with bags of equipment. Time for Batman to punch his cards.

Swinging on his Batgrapple, Batman landed directly in front of where the burglars were running. "He's real," said one of them, surprised. The two drew butcher knives but did not form ranks or even look for an opening before charging. Amateurs. Batman disarmed the surprised burglar who had just spoken with a karate chop, then knocked the other down with a side kick to the abs. A jab-jab-cross combo to the standing criminal had him out cold.

The other one was smartly trying to run away. Not that it really did him much good. Catching up to and tackling him, Batman lifted him into the air by the coat. He looked frightened. "Who are you working for?" asked Batman? "N-nobody," said the burglar. Batman grimaced. "Nobody, I swear!" shouted the scared burglar. Batman still wasn't entirely sure but it didn't look as though they were talking either way. They were already afraid enough.

After stringing them up and calling the police, Batman continued his patrol. The reason he believed the burglars might be working for someone was because both Batman and the Gotham City Police Department (GCPD) had reason to believe that there existed mobs controlling much of Gotham's crime. There was a reason why when outsiders thought of Gotham they thought of crime. It was because Gotham was by far the most gang-infested town in North America.

Batman now noticed a man pulling a young woman into an alley. "Money and any credit cards ya got or kiss brick!" said the mugger. Batman swooped down, landing on the man's head. A punch to the fallen oppenent's face took the fight out of him. "This don't solve nothin'!" taunted the mugger. "I'll be back on the street in a month, tops!" Probably. But maybe that didn't have to be a problem. Batman got completely in his face. "Fine," Roared Batman. "I'll just find and catch you again. Think I can't? Think of how quickly I found you!" Now the mugger had gone from cocky to stammering and swallowing. Maybe now he wouldn't try this again.

Upon stringing him up, Batman discovered that the young woman hadn't left. "Thanks," she said. Batman didn't really ask for thanks from the bystanders he helped. He did this because he felt he needed to. For his parents and justice. Nonetheless, Batman replied, "You're welcome," then started to walk away.

Just as Batman was reaching into his belt for his Batgrapple, the woman who Batman had rescued moved back in front of him with a smile. "I'm not saying this means you own me but I would love to know you better." Just before their hand would have met, Batman said, "I'm in a relationship." Bruce Wayne was, actually. The lady froze. "Oh," she said, walking away.

Suddenly, it hit Batman. Bruce was supposed to have met another lady at the manor five minutes ago. And this wasn't a PR date, either. It was someone he genuinely liked. Batman rushed to where he had the Batmobile parked. He had to get home fast! Upon entering the cockpit he hit the gas and picked up the car phone. "Alfred," he said. "Master Bruce," replied the British butler. "I'm late for an appointment," explained Batman. "Have a tuxedo ready for me in the Batcave." "The master may be the greatest hero Gotham City has ever known," noted Alfred, "but he's clearly not the most loyal boyfriend of all time."

"I'm in no mood for humor, Alfred... But I guess I deserve that."

 **Henchman's perspective:**

A nervous man named Jobo walked into the office of his odd-looking boss. "OK, we got the chemicals." "Excellent!" But Jobo was puzzled by his boss' plan. "Why the gas, boss? There's not much money to be made in destruction." "This isn't merely about money," explained the boss. "Everybody likes a good show. Especially if that show is comedy. Ha, Ha! We are gonna put on a truly great show! One that will have them counting the seconds until the next performance. Those who haven't died laughing, anyway." The boss began laughing hysterically.

 _What have I signed up for_ , wondered Jobo with a chill.

 **Bruce's perspective:**

The Batmobile sped through the holographic wall concealing the tunnel through the Batcave and into the driveway in front of the Batcomputer. There was the texedo waiting for Batman, along with a note reading, "Change into this quickly, sir!"

Bruce got a glance of his date, Christie Whitlock, in the dining room. Her hair was a short brown bob and she looked really upset. Not that Bruce blamed her. Thirty-two minutes late. "Good luck, sir," Alfred wished him. Bruce knew he'd need it. Stepping into the dining room Bruce tried, "Christie..." "Don't," warned Christie. "You can tell me how you were so late beyond your work hours. No more."

"I... had a wild night."

"You mean you were drunk?"

"Drunk with action." He hadn't lied yet. That was the one thing he hated about having a secret identity. But he had no choice. Being the bane to crime was suicide if criminals knew your address.

"You mean you just got carried away sober?" asked an appalled Christie? Bruce nodded. "And I tried to give you credit. Tell me you didn't meet anyone."

"I did..." Christie was groaning. "...And she asked me to get to know her but I turned her down." Bruce wondered if he'd said too much. "You've gotta be telling the truth," realized Christie. "Because no one would lie about negligence and even near cheating when he's already in trouble. I'll stay." Bruce sighed in relief as he sat down and the couple ate squid and shrimp.

Small talk was littered throughout the meal. Finally, Bruce asked, "so what's your current assignment?" Christie was a journalist for Gothic Report, a big, local professional web site devoted to news in Gotham City. "The Batman," said Christie. "Would it help if I said I was sorry?" asked Bruce. Christie started laughing. "I'm not sixteen anymore. I meant I want to get the scoop on The Batman."

This was potentially unlucky. "So don't be jealous," Christie assured him. "I'm not jealous," said Bruce. Kind of hard to be jealous of yourself.

"Then why were you so uncomfortable when I mentioned him?" smiled Christie. Bruce was surprised that Christie noticed that so she explaned, "We always know our men better than our men know us." Quite possibly, but in this case, not that well.

"Just out of curiousity," inquired Bruce, "What 'scoop' are you digging for?" "Actually, many scoops," explained Christie. "What he does, how he does it, his measurements - again, I don't mean to make you jealous, I mean scientific measurements - how he gets around unseen, and most importantly, who he really is."

That last part hit Bruce like a sledgehammer! He thought he might have found love yet it seemed to be with a woman who threatened to end his crimefighting career! "Why do you seem to have a problem with this?" asked Christie. "He does seem to be a force for good," said Bruce. He was trying his best poker face. Christie seemed able to read him.

"A lot of people thought Nixon, Hitler, and the old crime families were 'forces for good' too, Christie noted. "For a member of the elite, you are so naive. Plus, he's my ticket to a Pulitzer!"

"Maybe we should talk about something else," said Bruce, realizing that he wasn't changing Christie's mind. "Believe me, work isn't what I wanted to talk about right now, anyway." The rest of dinner went well. They shared childhood notes and had good laughs about each other's pet peeves.

After all the food was finished, it was time for goodbyes. "You gave me a good time," Christie complimented. "I am so close to forgiving you for being late" She then kissed Bruce on the cheek. "Just don't do it again." With Christie on the way back to suburban Gotham, Bruce figured he needed to talk to Alfred about his little dilemma.

"Alfred, there's been a problem."

"She seems to be more or less past your tardiness."

"Unfortunately, she's after The Batman's mask." Alfred seemed to understand. "Yes, that would be a problem. Simple solution: end this relationship."

"I'm not an undisciplined man," Bruce assured him. "But it's not that simple. She sensed my discomfort when we talked about Batman."

"So it would be suspicious if you suddenly made a 'we're from different worlds' speech."

"Exactly."

"As long as you be extra careful and leave no evidence of who you are," said Alfred, "You should be fine."

"It's not that easy," Bruce feared. "She's an investigative genius and she's at the point where she notices all the little details that only a girlfriend would notice. If she so much as gets a good look at me in the costume, I think she will know that Bruce Wayne and Batman are the same person."

"Telling the truth does sometimes smooth these things."

"And sometimes they don't. Besides, she's not completely over my being late. I'm in no position to ask for her understanding."

"So... lover of Bruce Wayne," Alfred summed it up. "Adversary of Batman. I long for the days when relationships made sense."

"Me too," agreed Bruce.

 **Commissioner Gordon's perspective:**

In the food court of a Gotham mall, Commissioner James Gordon, Lieutenant Marc Freeman, and Detectives Harvey Bullock and Renee Montoya were looking over the bodies of thirteen victims of a mass murder. bizarrely enough, the faces appeared to be smiling.

"Had to be a mob hit," concluded Bullock.

"Any info that any of them did anything to put targets on them?" Gordon asked the other two.

"Nope," said Freeman.

"These are mostly faceless kids," said Bullock. "Only insultin' a gang leader or fallin' behind on payments fer drugs would get them targets on their asses."

"Maybe there is no grand motive," suggested Montoya.

"Has to be," figured Freeman. "Anybody dumb enough to kill on a whim is also too dumb to execute murders this sophisticated."

"But why a public place like the food court?" asked Montoya. "That attracts too much attention."

"So does makin' these faces smile, I gotta admit," conceded Bullock. "not that I got any idea how the hell they did that! But it don't make sense for this to be a random killin' spree."

"'Once you eliminate the impossible,'" quoted Gordon,"'whatever remains however improbable, must be true.'"

 **Bruce's perspective:**

The following morning, Bruce had his almost daily word with his company vice president, Lucius Fox. "How was last night?" Lucius asked. "Up and down," said Bruce.

"Christie's a 'can't live with her, can't live without her' kind of girl?"

"Not really, but there are certain... conflicts. What of business?"

"Bad news," Lucius said apologetically. "It's a regular day. Except that I believe our stocks and revenues are up. Absolutely nothing to take your mind off relationship squabbles."

"I don't shoot messengers," said Bruce. "To your office."

Come lunch break, most people who worked in an office could be found eating lunch and maybe watching TV or playing a game on their phone. Bruce preferred to check the Internet for any recent crimes in town. It seemed that there had been a mass murder in the mall. It was a perfectly planned but illogical gas attack. Not that there was any good reason for murder but using chemicals designed to pull people's lips up into smiles was just begging to be caught. So it was an ingenious kill yet totally mindless!

Only one conclusion to draw from this: the killer was insane. That was the only way anyone smart enough to pull this off wouldn't be smart enough to make it a less obvious murder scene. So this wouldn't be an easy case. Random crimes were unpredictable. No reason equaled no motive. The criminal mind capable of this wasn't coventional but it was one of the hardest to catch.

At least Batman was too cold and calculating for anyone to say that he'd wished for this difficult case without care.

 **Batman's perspective:**

After an hour and fifty-three minutes of investigating Batman hadn't found anything but an unrelated armed robbery to stop. Not that he was abandoning his other responsibilities. He really didn't expect to find the new lunatic on the first night, anyway. Still some time before...

Hold on! Batman heard what looked like an explosion in another district. Batman turned on the radio that he had tuned to police frequencies in the Batmobile. "Calling all cars. Bombing in progress in Jameston, Gotham. Unkown suspect, considered to be armed and dangerous." Whether this was connected to the bombing or not didn't affect Batman's decision to get involved. But he doubted this was a coincidence.

Upon nearing the scene of the crime, the Batnavicomputer detected several wildly fast-moving vehicles... only one whose driver seemed to know what he/she was doing. Maybe this would be a short case after all.

Upon catching up to the vehicle on a bridge, Batman used the Batwinch to hook the fast car he was focusing on, then hit the brakes. Out came a man with a gun. Batman instinctively hopped to the side and threw a Batarang into the man's arm, forcing him to drop the gun in pain. An instant later, Batman had decked him gripped him by the shirt. "Boss is in the car," he said. Punching out the frightened thug, Batman faced the car in time to see someone step out of the driver's side.

Batman had left his headlights on so he could somewhat clearly see this man. He looked fairly skinny and an even six feet tall. He was dressed in a purple 1930's mafia suit, complete with matching hat. Most notable was the chalk-white skin, red lips, and green hair. "Who are you supposed to be?" he asked. "Dracula or The Great Batsy?" "You're not exactly normal yourself, mad clown," retorted Batman.

"The Joker at your service," said the weird one as he reached for the flower on his suit. It squirted out acid. Batman was able to block the stream of bat killer with his acidproof cape. At the same time, he rushed forward before The Joker realized this. A moment after the acid harmlessly deflected off Batman's cape, his fist met Joker's face. It wasn't enough to knock the evil clown over, so Batman grabbed and slammed him against the car that remained hooked!

"Did you blow up that building, Joker?"

"Yeah."

"Were you responsible for yesterday's gas attack in a mall?"

"Yeah."

"Why."

"Physical comedy. like so..."

Batman lurched away as he felt searing pain to the side of his belly button. The Joker was now carrying an automatic pistol. The kevlar suit wasn't very effective against bullets at that close range. Couldn't be perfectly protective without cramping movement. "Yes, you may have another," assured Joker, taking another shot, this time into Batman's upper abdomin. Without his suit he'd be dead now, not backed onto the edge of the bridge. Batman was groaning in pain when he saw the gun in his exposed face.

"I do believe we've got pests in town," said the Joker with laughter. "Good thing I brought my own repellent." Using the outside of the bridge's barrier, Batman wrapped his legs around the Joker's shooting arm to veer it off-target. Three shots missed. But a good push from Joker had Batman tumbling off the bridge.

Time to see if all of Batman's adolescence of training in China had paid off. He took a shot with his Batgrapple to a nearby light post. He had to look fast and shoot straight before the momentum of the fall would be enough for a sudden stop to break his arm. Success! After wrapping his legs around the post so as to cling to it, Batman used the Batgrapple to get back onto the bridge.

 **Jobo's perspective:**

A good kick to the face had awakened Jobo."Wha?" The Joker was not happy. "I'm quite disappointed in you, Jobo. I can take incompetence, but betrayal?" Now his hand was on the acid flower.

Talk fast!

"I had no choice," implored Jobo. "He had me. It's not like he could take you." Kissing The Joker's ass seemed to have done the trick. "True," said Joker. "He backed you into the corner but no harm's been done. But you know what? I never did like you anyway." He laughed and laughed as he squirted acid into Jobo's neck. The unfortunate Jobo quickly lost consciousness.

 **Batman's perspective:**

Upon getting back on the bridge, Batman saw that The Joker had apparently unhooked his car and was speeding away. Alas, there was a dying man nearby. Batman wasn't about to let Joker kill another, even if it did seem to be his comrade who he had apparently turned on.

Batman tried to douse the acid with his cape. No luck. The man died. "I knew you were no good," a female voice called from a distance away. "But I never figured you were a murderer!" Batman looked back to see an infuriated Christie in her car. Before Christie would've gotten the one good look she needed at Batman's lower face, Batman turned back away from her. "I didn't kill him," Batman tried to explain. "A man calling himself The Joker did."

"Whatever," said Christie. "I'm a reporter. I'll give the people your story. But first I need your name, date of birth, and address. Oh and by 'name' I mean real name."

Clever. Christie had given Batman terms the public would find more than fair but that he couldn't accept. And Batman couldn't get back to the Batmobile without getting his face in Christie's sight. No choice but to try to escape on foot.

Of course, even Batman couldn't escape from a woman with a car. And knowing Christie, she had the equipment to get clear footage of Batman jumping off the side. Batman had to get to moving cars and start hopping across them. He gave that 1-in-25 odds.

Batman then heard Christie's car right beside him, dragging those odds down to zero. Batman covered his face with his right hand but not his eyes, which were now hurting badly. Batman fell to the ground as the pain in his eyes intensified, though he did remember to keep his face covered.

"Gotham's no place for women without mace," explained Christie as she got out of her parked car. She must have sprayed Batman with it as she passed by. "Too many bad men in town... like you." By now Batman heard Christie's footsteps inching closer and and closer to him. "You wanted the hard way? Here it is. First the mask, then the shots for my editor, then prison."

It was no use to explain. Time for something Batman learned in his training but thought he'd never use. "Did you actually..." said Batman in his Bruce Wayne voice, ventriloquisting it a distance behind Christie.

As Christie turned around, she said, "Mm-hmm. I even caught him in the act of... murder. Must have been my imagination." By this time Batman had wept off his eyes enough to get back to the Batmobile, climb in, and drive away. A quick U-turn later and the Batmobile was speeding away at 125 MPH. Christie wasn't catching him now. He did hear one last proclaimation from Christie as he escaped though: "This isn't over, Batman! I'll find you again."

Those were not pleasant words to hear. Batman had to be more careful in the future. Part of him wondered if Bruce Wayne should make up an excuse to stop seeing Christie after enough time had passed that it wouldn't be suspicious. But Batman knew that wasn't right. Damn it all, Christie wasn't a bad person. She was one of many good people who misunderstood what Batman did. How could Batman justify breaking Christie's heart when she simply didn't deserve that?

And yet, the alternative was a game of Russian roulette.

 **Christie's perspective:**

Christie Whitlock was angry and determined. She had him. Her mace had him ripe for unmasking. And then she got a hallucination at the worst possible moment. Not that she didn't love Bruce, but romance had a time and place. Or had Batman somehow thrown Bruce's voice? Christie's relationship with Bruce was publictly known, after all. Probably the case. Christie had never really hallucinated as an adult. She certainly hoped she hadn't started now.

A career woman couldn't waste time on her failures. Not when more than a Pulitzer was at stake. Batman had lost control and murdered an unarmed man. He had to be punished. Killing unarmed people was not the way to clean up Gotham. Christie had to expose the face behind the mask.

Of course, Batman had to be a good way away by now. The search might have to wait another night. Unless... that poor scumbag couldn't have been the lone bomber. Batman was no doubt picking up the trail of the others. So if Christie could pick up Batman's trail, she could nail all the worst criminals in Gotham at one great night!

The Gothic Report would of course get exclusive coverage of this double bust. Christie would see to that.

 **Batman's Perspective**

Christie, for the time being, had been left in the dust. And the wounds on Batman's stomach had been bandaged. Time for Batman to focus on The Joker. He had soon enough made it around to the opposite end of the bridge. Of course The Joker's car wasn't here and not even on the radar but there was a man on the sidewalk who looked positively shocked! And Batman had an idea of what had surprised this person.

Getting out of the car, Batman caught this man in a short foot chase and grabbed him by the arms. "I just want to ask what you saw."

"I don't know," said the man. Batman drew a wallet and $50 bill out of his belt. "Wild driver turned right two intersections down the road."After handing over the money, Batman reentered the Batmobile and followed, passed an intersection, and turned right on the next intersection.

Soon enough, Batman entered a neighborhood with The Joker's car parked next to a house. Now it was time for the hard part. Batman had to check and see if he was physically fit for combat. Batman closed his eyes for a few seconds and reopened them. They had more or less recovered from being maced by Christie. Was the same true of Batman's midsection? It better have been, because rain or shine, this case had to be closed tonight!

Odd. A window was open. Batman hopped up into it. Sure enough, there was a carpet below. A trap was no doubt hidden underneath it. Batman knew The Joker might have suspected that Batman might pick up his trail. He dropped into the house away from the carpet and whatever trap was underneath it.

Batman didn't have to wander far. He saw the back of The Joker's head on a couch, watching television. Careless. Too careless. Especially for someone who had set a trap. Had to be a mannequin decoy. Batman seized a Batarang and leaped forward, turning his body to face the kitchen area that he hadn't been able to see from his vantage point. Sure enough, The Joker was standing there with his pistol. Batarang in the arm had Joker dropping his gun. By the time he retrieved it, Batman had reached the kitchen and slapped the gun away. Batman pulled the right side of his cape in front of Joker's flower just in time to block the acid. Little bits of acid deflected into The Joker, catching him in his own trap and forcing him back.

Batman advanced, ripping out the flower. A kick to the midsection had Joker sitting down. "It's over," said Batman. But The Joker whipped out another gun with a spring-loaded boxing glove inside. When the glove hit Batman's chin, he was rocked back. As he reinserted the glove into the gun, Joker exclaimed, "That's gonna leave a mark!" in a so-so impression of a melodramatic sports commentator. Another shot from the boxing gun had Batman on the floor and groaning.

Batman couldn't afford to take another blow from that glove. Just as he was realizing that, Joker had a foot on his chest and was taking aim at Batman's mouth. "This is an absolutely dominating performance by..." A punch to Joker's exposed groin forced him to hunch over and drop the gun in pain. Batman twisted around on his back so as to deck The Joker with a kick! Getting up, Batman lifted The Joker up to face him. "He's made a comeback," said Batman, headbutting Joker out.

Just then, Batman heard a gun cock from just outside the kitchen. "She sure has," proclaimed Christie. Not again...

"Listen..." tried Batman. "Save it," rejected Christie. "I saw you over that unarmed man's corpse. And now I see you with that unconscious psychopath. Unnecessarily killing criminals is still murder."

Batman agreed, though there didn't seem to be any way to convince Christie of that. "First the belt of tricks," said Christie. "Then the mask." next was pause from both opponents. "You think I won't kill the bastard who I saw commit murder? You're armed and have a victim in your hands. Nobody's blaming me. Take off the belt and mask. Last warning."

Because Christie was behind Batman, he couldn't tell if the gun was aimed at his head or back. So there was no surefire way out of this. But there was one good way out. He quickly leaned forward so his head wasn't in range. Christie started shooting Batman in the back. But two layers of protection, the cape and suit, rendered the bullets harmless. After the eighth shot, Batman heard the gun click.

Christie sighed. "Well-played," she had to admit. "Go ahead. Kill me. But I've got a bunch of fearless journalists waiting to take my place. Someone will finish what I've started. You'll see!."

Batman's answer to that was a smoke bomb in the direction of Christie's voice. The sound of her coughs was Batman's ticket out of there. On the way out, Batman called, "Make sure the police get him."

 **Christie's perspective:**

Christie figured that the only reason why Batman had spared her was because intimidating her was the only way to end Gothic Report's hunt for the Dark Blight. As if that was ever going to happen.

"So The Batman took him down?" asked Commissioner Gordon, who was one of the police officers who had answered Christie's call. "After murdering his assistant," clarified Christie. "We of Gothic Report says Batman's as bad as this man." "Your viewpoint is noted," said Gordon. "You mean you're not going after him?" asked Christie in frustration. "We're looking into all possibilities," assured Lieutenant Freeman.

Christie wasn't dumb. She knew how cops talked. "That means you're not gonna do anything about him." "Least you got yer story," consoled Detective Bullock. True. This night had been successful. But a dangerous man was still on the loose. "You haven't heard the last from us on this!" promised Christie.

Gordon had returned to his office. There were some things he had to get before returning home. He heard a spooky voice declare, "All's well that ends well." Gordon turned to see a man dressed in a sleek bat costume. "The Batman, I presume?" inquired Gordon. Batman nodded. "I suggest a working relationship," said Batman. "What kind of relationship?" asked Gordon. "Have a bat-shaped searchlight built," suggested Batman. "When a case has you stumped, give me a crack at it." "Why not join the force instead?" asked Gordon. "Official procedures make it too slow and ineffective," said Batman.

 **Commissioner Gordon's Perspective:**

Gordon's first instinct was to turn Batman down. Relying on a vigilante was not exactly how they taught you at the academy. But something gave him pause. High crime was a way of life in Gotham City. And it's not like doing everything by the book had worked. "Agreed," he said. And the two shook hands.

 **Bruce's perspective:**

Bruce and Christie were eating at a fancy restaurant to celebrate Christie's big story. Getting the exclusive scoop on the capture of The Joker had put Christie on the map in a big way! "They say I'm already in the running for that Pulitzer!" said Christie. She was very happy about that. "If I put in a good word for you with some people," offered Bruce, "I think I can make sure you win it!" "Thank you Bruce," said Christie. "You're everything I can ask for in a boyfriend!" "Except punctual?" asked Bruce. They both laughed. "Actually, the ability to laugh at your own flaws isn't bad, either," complimented Christie. They leaned forward to kiss.

"What now for your career?" asked Bruce. "Batman's a slippery one," admitted Christie. "But I'm gonna get 'im!" Bruce was disappointed to hear that. "But you're getting what you want," Bruce pointed out. "This isn't about my career anymore," said Christie. "He's a killer!" "The police are giving him a blank check because they're so scared of the vermin that they're trusting the wrong 'superhero.' If nobody else will expose that loose cannon, I will!"

Why fight it? Bruce and Christie seemed destined to be both friends and foes until Christie gave up the chase. Or caught Batman. As close as she'd twice come the other night, that couldn't be ruled out.

"Great dish!" Bruce changed the subject. "Let's eat here again." "Yes, let's," agreed Christie.


	2. Personal Fowl

**Bruce's perspective:**

Bruce Wayne and Christie Whitlock were eating at Club Samurai for the second straight week. At one point, Christie said, "Don't take this the wrong way, but you're nothing what I expected when we first met." "Oh?" inquired Bruce.

"A lot of members of the the social elite are egotistical and think they're entitled to the world. But you're not like that at all."

What Christie didn't realize was that Bruce was not your ordinary rich man. He had been forever shaken from the shootings of his parents. That made it much easier to be humble. "Thanks," he said. Bruce kept what Christie had said about other elites in mind. Though The Batman had mostly gone after blue collar criminals so far, there were probably others higher up the ladder who were up to no good.

Bruce had arranged this dinner in the early evening and not without reason. After taking Christie home and driving a few blocks on the way to Wayne Manor, Bruce noticed the light of the newly constructed Batsignal in the night sky. Because dinner hadn't been eaten after dark, Bruce didn't have to make up an excuse. Better yet, Bruce had the foresight to keep a costume in the trunk of his limousine. Like they taught in the scouts, Bruce was almost prepared.

 **Commissioner Gordon's perspective:**

Commissioner James Gordon had activated the Batsignal for the very first time. He had no idea of what to expect from the local mysterious stranger out of an old western. "Yes, Commissioner?" He heard a deep and spooky voice ask behind him. Gordon snapped around in shock to face Batman. "I'm pushing sixty," Gordon complained. "Do you want to give me a heart attack?" "Drink coffee, take deep breaths, and get used to it," suggested Batman. "Because I have to be me. Understand?" "Guess that's as good as this is getting," relented Gordon.

He handed a pair of police reports to Batman. "Jonathan Keeper and Blake Richards of The Cobbling Needle's board of directors are dead," said Gordon. "And you want me to find the killer," figured Batman. "Oh no, we know who the killer is," said Gordon. "His name is Ozwald Cobblepot, though he seems to prefer to be called The Penguin now." "I've heard of him," noted Batman. "But didn't he get tired of the tailoring business he inherited after two weeks on the job and resign? What reason would he have to kill his former employees?"

"That's what we thought," agreed Gordon. "But he was caught in the act so it is what it is. He may look like a short, fat, overweight, freak of nature, But he's really strong, has good aim with an Umbrella Gun, and uses another umbrella with a mini-copter in the shoot of it."

"This is going to be a very corny case," said Batman. Gordon smiled. "I hope a man who dresses like a bat can understand the irony of this." Gordon walked away to turn off the signal. "Keep us..." Batman was now gone. "...Posted." Gordon took deep breaths like Batman had said he should.

 **Christie's perspective:**

Christie had expected the rest of her evening to be TV and bed. A bright light in the sky said otherwise. She had driven to the police station where that light was coming from. "I want to see the Commissioner," she demanded. This was the chance to nail The Batman and expose his secret ID for good. "Sorry," said the employee. "This has to go through the proper channels." "Give me the forms," said a reluctant Christie. She wasn't a fool. She knew this was a delay. She wasn't catching Batman tonight. But she could confront Gordon about how an honorable man had grown so desperate to save a crime-flooded Gotham City that he'd turned to a vigilante who had been caught in the act of murder on at least one occasion.

Eventually, Christie jumped through all of these hoops and found herself in Gordon's office. "You just missed The Batman if that's who you're looking for," Gordon explained. Christie frowned. "Fine. I want to have a word with you, anyway. I don't know what you're thinking but I caught The Dark Blight in the act of murder." "Are you sure you saw what you saw, Ms. Whitlock?" asked Gordon.

Instead of answering, Christie took this conversation in another direction. "Protecting him could be sticky for you," she warned.

"Oh?"

"Mm-hmm. The Dark Blight's always been a polarizing figure in this town. We at _Gothic Report_ did a poll. Forty seven percent favorability rating for him, forty-nine percent unfavorable."

"Aren't I at seventy-three percent?" rebutted Gordon. "Sixty-two percent," updated Christie. "Turns out that doing something controversial hurts your popularity. Could only be the beginning. In time people might tie your support for him in with the numerous brutal and/or paid-off officers under your command."

"I think you're out of line talking to me like that," said Gordon. "Arrests and discharges of these officers are up two hundred twenty seven percent since my promotion." _He's on the defensive. Foot on the gas._ "I know," Christie said. "I'm not threatening. I'm saying that I don't want anyone to see a big mistake on your part as more than a mistake. You help me expose him and I'll credit you on our site."

"You may leave," said Gordon, motioning to the door. _Time for the coup de grace_. "I'm getting rid of The Dark Blight," promised Christie. "Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but someday. You don't want to be on the wrong side of history."

Gordon wasn't answering. Christie had begun to believe that she was soon to be given Batman when Gordon said, "It was nice talking to you." Christie walked out of the office. _So Close._

 **Batman's perspective:**

Batman thought about how to approach this case. Cobblepot, Penguin, or whatever he wanted to call himself had been smart enough to not leave any clues. Sure he'd been seen but following someone who had a little flying machine wasn't easy. Without any data on where to find Cobblepot, it might be better to find out who his next target was and protect that person instead.

Upon returning to the Batmobile, Batman read over the police reports. Sometimes it pays to read the fine print. Cobblepot was apparently very particular about which of the new leaders of The Cobbling Needle he chose to kill. His victims had been Jonathan Keeper and Blake Richards, the #5 and #4 men in the company. Based on this pattern, Batman suspected that the #3 person was next. Not #3 man for her name was Sharmyn McCall, a forty-three-year-old businesswoman and the first in the history of The Cobbling Needle's board. Batman spent the next two and a half hours watching Sharmyn's office and following her home. He stayed awhile longer until it became clear Cobblepot wasn't coming. A listen to the Batmobile's police radio... nothing about Cobblepot going after anyone else.

Batman picked up his car phone. "I'm coming home," he called Alfred. "Dinner has been ready for some time, sir," said Alfred. But food was the last thing on Batman's mind. "Tell the company tomorrow morning that Bruce Wayne is sick," directed Batman. "In the meantime, feel free to eat without me. I won't be offended." "I had no idea that Batman worked in the day," said Alfred. "He does now," said Batman. "Goodbye."

The next morning, Batman had found a shadowy part of a rooftop to hide and watch Sharmyn in. This felt very unusual. Because Bruce's mother and father had raised him strictly, he had always had an early bedtime until he donned his Batman costume. And yet it felt strange to be out in daylight in costume.

Batman's thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a short, overweight man Umbrella Coptering to Sharmyn's office. A skillful shot of the Batgrapple and hard swing of it had Cobblepot dropping on top of the same building as Batman.

"Surrender, Cobblepot," threatened Batman. "You've mistaken me for a dead man, good fellow," said Cobblepot. "Allow me to introduce you to The Penguin." With that, the self-proclaimed Penguin pointed his still active Umbrella Copter at Batman. Penguin turned off the Umbrella Copter just in time to use the momentum to shoulder bash Batman off the edge. Batman grabbed onto said edge and retracted his Batgrapple to get The Penguin off as well. No luck. Penguin had gotten his foot out of the cable so the hook came back into the Batgrapple by itself.

As he advanced towards a Batman who was literally on the edge, Penguin pointed the umbrella in his other hand at Batman's head. Had to be the Umbrella Gun Gordon warned him about. "How ironic," said The Penguin. "You seem to want to become a freak because you think it's cool. I, on the other hand lost my rightful company because I actually am a freak. Want to trade?" It was of course a joke but Batman still made it clear that "I don't trade with murdering scum." "I know you," observed Penguin. "One of those self-righteous members of the so-called 'working class.' Think those ethics make up for your failure at life." That was one hundred percent wrong. But it did reveal much about Penguin. He was the spoiled kind of wealthy person that Christie had told Bruce that his class was full of. "You may look like a freak," said Batman. " But what you are is an abomination!"

The Penguin was angered by that verbal shot. "You're one of the only ones to look past my bad looks," he said, cocking his gun. Batman dropped off before he would have been shelled and fired his Batgrapple to the windowsill above Sharmyn McCall's office. Batman then retracted the Batgrapple so he would be lifted in position to swing into that very office.

"What is the meaning of this?" asked Sharmyn. "You're in danger," explained Batman, moving close to Sharmyn and turning to the window. Sure enough, The Penguin Umbrella Coptered in and landed in front of Sharmyn's desk. He pointed his Umbrella Gun at Sharmyn. Batman dived on Sharmyn to get her out of the way of the shot at the last second, then sprung up and Bataranged the Umbrella Gun out of Penguin's hand. "Damn," said Penguin, retrieving the gun and flying back out.

Batman looked back out the window. The Penguin had gotten too far ahead. He was lost again. Batman pounded his right palm on Sharmyn's desk, then faced her. "Thanks," she said. Instead of accepting that, Batman asked, "Why is he after you people?" "Because he's like every employee I've ever had to fire," said Sharmyn. "He blames everyone but himself." "Wrong answer," Batman confronted her. "He's still out there. I need to know." "Well, I did think deposing him when business was up was strange but..." Sharmyn realized that Batman still wasn't satisfied. "Don't look at me like that. That's all I know for a fact."

"What other then facts?"

Sharmyn lowered her voice to a whisper. "I've heard rumors that our CEO, Gabriel Boile, wanted him gone because he's short and ugly. Now will you please get out before you get me in trouble?"

Batman had gotten into the windowsill when he heard an explosion behind him. He turned around to see Sharmyn laying dead and her desk in pieces. The Penguin must have left a bomb under the desk without Batman noticing. Batman pounded the wood to his right. It hurt. Because Batman felt that he deserved it. Should have checked for the bomb before asking any questions.

Batman couldn't fly. He moved extra fast to reach the office of the Vice President of The Cobbling Needle, Ken Bweek. He saw a sign on the desk that read, "Gone to a charity." Had to find that charity fast! He hurried back to the Batmobile and called Alfred on his phone. "Cobbling Needle Vice President Ken Bweek's in danger. Find a charity of his that's doing something big today and make it snappy." Two minutes later, he got a reply. "He's making a speech on Drowsy Avenue for Bweek Cares, sir." "Good work Alfred," complimented Batman, flooring the accelerator.

Tough shit for The Penguin. He may have had a head start, but the Batmobile could do 300 MPH. Batman arrived on the scene of Bweek's speech soon enough and got out. He used his Batgrapple to get on a higher perch and drop down to where Bweek was speaking. "What is the meaning of this," asked an aloof Bweek as Batman grabbed Bweek from behind and Batgrappled both Bweek and Batman to a good ways up a building. "You're not safe," said Batman as he Batgrappled a higher spot.

Upon reaching the roof, Batman explained, "Ozwald Cobblepot is after you." Bweek started laughing. "That loser? I don't care what leads the police have. He's nothing. There is no way he could have killed..." Bweek froze. Batman looked where Bweek was looking to see The Penguin Umbrella Coptering towards them. "Get behind me," commanded Batman. But he could hear a panicking Bweek running away from Batman's side. "Bweek, no!" Batman called out, but it was too late. An Umbrella Gun shot struck Bweek and he fell dead as a doorknob. "Some hero," taunted The Penguin, flying away.

On the high-speed drive back to The Cobbling Needle, Batman realized that this had not been his best mission. Two people had died because he had underestimated that vengeful little worm. The Penguin may not have been good-looking or in shape, but he was very clever and skilled.

Christie Whitlock, lover of Bruce Wayne, hunter of Batman's mask, would have a field day at _Gothic Report_ with this. And for once, Batman felt he would deserve it. But he couldn't change his mistakes. All he could do was stop The Penguin from killing his next target: CEO Gabriel Boile.

Upon reaching the office, Batman realized that Boile wasn't there. Must have been in the meeting. But Batman had done enough checking to know where the meeting room was.

Batman reached a window leading to that meeting room. He waited a few minutes outside before The Penguin barged into the room through the door. Must have realized Batman would've been waiting for him outside. Batman immediately broke through the window. He ducked two shots aimed for his head as he charged, leaped over, and finally, snatched away Penguin's special umbrellas. Tossing them out the window, Batman challenged, "Let's see how you do without your lame weapons." But Batman's punch at Penguin's face was dodged and caught in Penguin's hands. Batman was swung around by the arm and launched into a wall, hard!

"Not so badly," assured Penguin. "So sorry to disappoint." The Penguin advanced towards Batman and punched him in the ribs. Even through the kevlar, he felt that. Uh-oh. This man was stronger than he looked. Batman was felled by an uppercut to the chin but pulled up by the wrists. Penguin locked his hands together between Batman's back and cape and pulled the arms back pushed the gut forward. There was now tremendous pressure on Batman's gut.

"Had enough?" asked The Penguin. Batman's answer to that was a headbutt that broke Penguin's long nose and forced him to break the hold and back away. "You'll pay for that," The Penguin promised, enraged. He swung at Batman but Batman dodged. Batman seized Penguin by the broken nose with both hands and twisted. Penguin yelled out in anguish. _Getting closer_. A few knee strikes to The Penguin's gut had him down on all fours. Some Batrope to tie him up and this fight was over.

"Well done, good sir," Said Gabriel Boile, clapping. Oh, no. This case wasn't over yet. "Shut up," rejected Batman "You're also in trouble." "Oh?" asked Boile. Batman pulled out his Batrecorder that he always kept around, just in case. Again, his preparations had paid off. Everyone in the room heard the voice of the late Sharmyn McCall: "I've heard rumors that our CEO, Gabriel Boile, wanted him gone because he's short and ugly. Now will you please get out before you get me in trouble?"

Boile laughed uncontrollably. "I'm an important man. Do you seek to bring me down with a _rumor_?" "You have equally important competitors," warned Batman. "Lawsuit opportunities are knocking. And they have a witness." He motioned at The Penguin, who nodded. "Not to mention the grieving survivors of Sharmyn McCall and Ken Bweek. They can now sue you for wrongful death."

"Enough comedy," said a no longer amused Boile." Take your collar and go." But Batman wasn't done. "Best case scenario," he was now speaking to Boile's board. "Business badly suffers for years. This company could very well be destroyed. Your only chance to avoid this is to depose Boile and tell the country that he deceived you about why this was done to The Penguin."

"I say we vote on it now," suggested one member of the board. All but three nodded in agreement. "WHAT?!" screamed Boile in shock. "Please return to your office... Gabriel," said another member. Nobody objected to the non-use of the word "Mr." Boile gasped, realizing that this was really happening. "All my money is in stocks," pleaded Boile. "If I'm run out, I'll have nothing." Nobody seemed at all sympathetic.

"Why," noted The Penguin. "You look positively terrified, Boile! You should be. Your career's going down in flames." Penguin paused to laugh. "You're going to prison, fat boy," Boile reminded him. "You're going to something much worse," declared Penguin. "You need another job now. I'm not the only one you've swindled. Whatever you do now to make a living, you'll be doing it among the people you've been cheating. My revenge is complete after all!" The Penguin returned to laughing as Boile began shivering in terror.

That evening, Bruce Wayne was practicing his moves in the Batcave when he heard Alfred say, "Master Bruce, your training schedule has elapsed." Bruce didn't care. "I need more training," he explained. "Two people died today." "You did your best to save them," Alfred assured him. "It wasn't enough," Bruce pointed out. "This isn't chess. Lives were at stake. Lives that I failed." Realizing that he couldn't cheer Bruce up, Alfred walked away.


	3. Question Time

**Eddie Nygma's perspective:**

The scrawny, geeky, Edward Nygma never thought he'd miss high school. Being made fun of and pranked wasn't fun but now Eddie faced a far worse fate: boredom. Eddie was a faceless programmer working for the Gotham City division of Orange, one of the leading smartphone companies of the world. It was the same thing every day: try out new ideas that the overrated bosses had come up with, keep checking for bugs and hackers, and go home.

Eddie felt that he had missed his chance to ascend into higher areas within this company. Those who had done this were likable and kissed the bosses' asses. In the end, Eddie had come to realize that being the best at what you did just wasn't what counted.

There were those who called themselves friends of Eddie who contended that Eddie should learn modesty, or as Eddie preferred to call it, the ability to give false compliments. Then maybe he could get his promotion. Others suggested that he just go get dates on Friday nights and learn to live a normal life. But Eddie felt in his gut that he was meant for greater things than operating a computer or raising a family. And then there were those who pointed out that Eddie was making significantly higher than average pay and had the nerve to suggest that he should be happy with that. Eddie had gotten straight As in school and graduated from Duke with honors! He was meant for so much more!

And he would have so much more. To Hell with Orange, its undeserving powers that be, and especially the idiots Eddie was surrounded by! Because he didn't like his only other option - moving to California or Texas - he would choose the lawless route. If downtown high school dropouts could learn to make money heisting places, so could he. And he would. He got out of his chair and walked up to Julian, the supervisor of Eddie's programming group.

"Can I help you with anything?" asked Julian.

"For once, you can," affirmed Eddie. "I've decided to resign."

Julian smiled. "I'd like to say, 'I hate to lose you.' But I don't."

"Oh?"

"Everybody," Julian called out to the programmers. "Nygma says he quits." Cheers could be heard, as could quieter but actual words like "Good riddance," "Arrogant" and "Asshole." Eddie stormed out. He'd show them an asshole.

That evening, Eddie waited at the window of a neighboring building with the camera of his phone, zoomed in. He set the phone to record upon seeing someone walking over to a safe to deposit some of the money the place had taken in. Now he had video of the safe being opened. He sneaked in an hour later and used the video to a guide to the combination of the safe. Opening it, Eddie filled the thousands of dollars into his bag. Much more profitable than his old job, if boring. But this was still unglamorous work. Children who couldn't even read did this. One thing left to do. He taped a spike to the seat of each chair. If they thought Eddie Nygma was an asshole, why not prove them right?

Although... perhaps the best way to reach Eddie's potential _and_ get the recognition that he felt he deserved was to let the police know that this was no amateur at work. Yes, he would become the greatest puzzler of all: Puzzleman. Too corny. The Puzzler. Lacked a certain kick. He had it. The Riddler. And for his first riddles, Eddie taped a couple notes to the table.

 **Christie's perspective:**

The Batman was hard to find. After the first near misses on the night he caught The Joker, Christie believed she had found a pattern in his attacks. Sure enough, she soon found the Batmobile. A bit more looking around revealed some men breaking into a store and robbing it. Shouldn't be long before...

Yes, the loose cannon who Christie believed had killed at least one person tackled them. Very effectively so, Christie had to admit. Smiling, she watched Batman take all the other criminals down and as he tied them up, Christie slowly and carefully moved in from behind. Soon she would know who The Dark Blight really was. "I hear you coming, Whitlock," Batman rained on her parade. "Don't."

Christie stopped, fearing that sudden movements could set Batman off. After all, a killer who dressed in a Halloween costume had to be nuts! You didn't want to set him off. But when Batman fired his grappling gun at something above, Christie bravely declared, "You can run, Dark Blight, but you can't hide forever. I've put pressure on Gordon. He needs to run the cleanest GCPD of all time to keep Mayor Hill from ordering him to help us at _Gothic Report_ expose your face and bad intentions. Then you're screwed. You're a half-step ahead of me as it is. One night you'll answer that call, get hit with gas or sedative, and wake up with the other criminals."

Christie continued. "Give up, Dark Blight. Take off your mask and wait for arrest. I promise you a fair trial. In fact, I'll make sure they don't kill you." Nothing else was said or done for eleven seconds before Batman retracted his grappling gun, pulling himself high up. "It was more than you deserved anyway," called out Christie.

This had been a heartbreaking assignment. Christie had come close no less than five times in the last month. Batman always found a way to escape. Nearly catching him all these times with nothing to show for it was getting to be downright disheartening.

Wait. Maybe she had something to show for it. Batman called her Whitlock. Yes... so many of the great criminals in history had made this one big mistake. Al Capone had evaded taxes. The Las Vegas mob had people who kicked sand into the faces of investigators, motivating them to catch the gangsters. Richard Nixon wiretapped everything in his White House, included self-incriminating information. Batman had just made his mistake.

Of course, you don't become a successful journalist in a city like Gotham City without knowing a lot of men. That meant that there were a lot of people to rule out as Batman. Could take a long time to narrow it down to just one man.

But when she did...

 **Batman's perspective:**

Upon getting back into the Batmobile to drive to and patrol another block of town, Batman found himself thinking of Christie. Despite all that had happened between Bruce Wayne's girlfriend and Batman, he guessed he still loved her. No. He didn't think. He knew he did. It was a misunderstanding of what killed The Joker's assistant that had caused Christie to pursue Batman.

For a moment, Batman thought about telling the truth as Bruce Wayne. But no. Christie was much too career-minded, tenacious, and idealistic. Not that these were bad things but they meant that if Christie found out who Batman was, the relationship was over.

 **Detective Bullock's perspective:**

In a way, the Orange case that had just popped up was like high school all over again to Harvey Bullock. He had done a bit of bullying back then. Of course, it was nothing like this. Whoever did it had burgled this tech company and left spikes on the seats that hurt a lot of the geeks, even hospitalizing a few.

And then there were the riddles. "You sure we gotta try an' solve these questions?" Bullock asked Lieutenant Marc Freeman. "They're probably just diversions."

"Diversions or not," said Freeman, "They're all we have to go on." "Worth a shot," agreed Bullock's partner, Detective Renee Montoya.

"'Why is it that no one wants to continue but everyone does it anyway?'" Bullock quoted one riddle. "That don't make no sense. If you don't want to continue, why would you?"

"Maybe it's somebody who hates their job," suggested Montoya.

"Congrats, Montoya," Bullock said sarcastically. "You might have narrowed it down to half a million people in town."

"Enough," said Freeman. "We need to figure out this riddle not riddle each other. Let's try the other one. Maybe the first will make more sense if they're combined."

"'Come see me tonight, Stud muffin. It's a one night stand but there's more of this for you in a few months.'" Quoted Montoya. "So the supect's a lady," guessed Freeman. "Any unhappy lovers of any of them?"

"We thought of that at the crime scene. Being nerds, this wasn't a problem for the victims."

"And why would she wait a few months?" asked Montoya. Bullock realized something. "It ain't a woman. It's a movie. 'Cause most people only got enough time to see a movie once."

"But you can watch it some more on disc or streaming video," Freeman caught on. "Still one issue: there's a ton of theaters in town."

"Yeah, but only one owned by a woman: Lynette's Gallery", Montoya explained.

"You sure that's what the first one meant?" asked Bullock.

"'Stud muffin,' genius. Nobody's ever called me that when asking me out."

"And there's a lot of sequels playing there today," said Bullock. He tapped his own forehead. " _That's_ what he means by 'continue.'"

"'And we're to be there tonight,'" concluded Freeman. "That's what the second one said.

"So he thought we'd fall for the old 'leave the good shit in the fine print' trick," sneered Bullock. Because things only became clear once they tried the second riddle. "Well he'll know that you don't mess with the GCPD," declared Montoya.

"These could be lies," cautioned Bullock. "We'll know soon enough," pointed out Freeman. "On my mark, we move."

They arrived near Lynette's Gallery at 7:00 P.M. with five undercover officers. Three hours and forty seven seconds passed. Nothing yet. "I knew those riddles were bullshit," reminded Bullock. "We stay a little longer," ordered Freeman. "We've gotta make... MOVE!"

All eight officers ran as a bazooka shell came down from the roof of Lynette's Gallery. One cop was not so lucky for he was caught in the explosion. This had started annoying and turned scary. But not necessarily not annoying; if Bullock and his comrades lived, he had a big "I told you so" coming to him from Montoya and Freeman.

 **The Riddler's perspective:**

Putting another shell into his bazooka, Eddie fired another shot that the police again barely dodged. He was dressed in green spandex littered with black question marks, purple gloves, a green derby hat, a purple domino mask, and feeling very pleased by what he saw. Those officers must have thought they were really smart to have figured out the riddles. But nobody could match the brainpower of the newly renamed Riddler.

No sooner had The Riddler thought that when he felt a powerful force pulling on his bazooka and tossing him aside. Riddler lost grip of his bazooka and was launched a good distance away. "I thought of the roof," said his assailant, tossing the bazooka aside.

This guy was fairly big and dressed in a black and gray costume. So The Batman was more real than sewer crocadiles after all. The Riddler drew a pistol out of his bag but before he could pull the trigger a thrown Batarang had hit his hand. He accidentally flung the gun off the theater in pain. "NO," he cried. "Oh, yes," said Batman.

No gun and The Riddler couldn't beat Batman to the bazooka. Just his knife. The Riddler drew and rushed Batman with it but the wrist was caught and a knee to the midsection had Riddler falling to the ground.

Slapping the knife away and lifting Riddler up by the costume, Batman asked, "What's the deal with the question marks and riddles?"

"I'm The Riddler," explained Riddler. "It's what I do.".

"What you do now is sleep in a cell," said Batman.

But The Riddler had one last card to play. "Unless you want to save a life," said The Riddler. He had Batman's attention. "I set a cop on fire." Batman looked to the side to confirm this. "Doubt the others save him. Him or me, Batman."

Batman's answer to that was a roundhouse punch. Riddler could barely stay conscious through that but when he saw that Batman had jumped down to the street, The Riddler fled himself. So this was a foe who was _almost_ as smart as him. This fight had ended in a draw. The Riddler hadn't struck a crippling blow to the GCPD's leadership but neither had Batman caught him. This was the beginning of a beautiful rivalry.

 **Batman's perspective:**

Upon landing on the sidewalk, Batman rushed to the man who the police were trying in vain to de-flame. "Let me try," implored Batman. Taking off his cape, he added, "This is fireproof." he covered and pressed the man with it. In seconds, the flames were put out. But maybe too late. He wasn't breathing. Time for mouth-to-mouth. After the third try, the officer began coughing. He was alive. Just in need of a recovery period.

Instead of waiting for thanks, Batman fired his Batgrapple onto the roof of Lynette's Gallery. His heart told him that the last blow hadn't finished off The Riddler. Sure enough, he was long gone. "Damn," he cursed. He really hoped The Riddler would be scared off after the beating he'd just gotten. But Batman doubted that.

 **The Riddler's perspective:**

The following evening, The Riddler was in a bar chatting with a couple of muggers, Brock and Jim. They were to be the muscle Riddler needed to complement his IQ. Unfortunately, they didn't appreciate the riddles. "I don't get it," said a bewildered Brock. "Why the riddles? Ain't that like leaving clues behind?"

"Yes, to the simple mind, it seems like that," admitted Riddler. "But the police will be confused by them. Confused enemies can't find you. Of course you need to think non-obviously to see that."

Brock had become angry. "Are you insinuating that we're stupid?" "Of course not," The Riddler lied. "People are always lyin' when that say 'of course' like that," said Jim, now angry as well.

"There's no need to be uncivilized," Riddler tried. Too late. Brock still knocked him out of his seat with a punch! Both men were now beating The Riddler on the ground. Things weren't good. Riddler couldn't fight very well and had no weapons but a gun with him, and you didn't want to shoot people in a bar full of witnesses. Drunks didn't give a damn about brawls, however. What was it with everything always working against The Riddler? If you answered "Bad luck" or "The story of his life," you were correct.

"Not bad against skinny boys," The Riddler heard a female voice sarcastically compliment Brock and Jim. Riddler looked to see that this woman had long blonde hair. "Care to go a round with alpha woman?" asked another one, this one sounding Asian. Had help arrived?

"Sure," said Jim. "I'd rather have one 'O you, anyway," Brock accepted the challenge. "They're tough," warned Riddler. "Well, we've shot many 'tough guys' egos," assured the Asian woman. In leather jackets and jeans, the ladies were certainly dressed like the part of women who could fight men and win.

Sure enough, the blonde stunned Brock with a twist of his nose and knocked him down with a kick to the left knee. Jim dropped into a sitting position after five body blows from the easterner. Both men fled the bar with a number of patrons laughing at them for having been beaten by girls. Said girls helped The Riddler back into his chair. "Thanks," he said. "Why?"

"Why knows?" asked the Asian woman. "Maybe we're impressed by how you outsmarted The Batman last night. Maybe we didn't think you deserved that beating." "Maybe you're just really cute," said the one with blonde hair. The Riddler and the women all laughed.

"Diedre Vance," introduced the blonde. "Femme fatale." "Nina Damfino," the Asian woman said. "Chinawoman." "The Riddler," Riddler went last. "Costumed geek who's lost without warrioresses in shining armor." They all laughed again.

"I'd like to take that not-so-tough guy's place," said Nina. "how about you, Diedre?" Diedre nodded but said, "Just remember. We're not doormats. We demand respect. None of those insults. And absolutely no grabbing without permission. We can get that from gangs." Acceptable. Now The Riddler had the help he needed.

"Fair enough," he said. "I'll have you two tailored outfits to symbolize your new jobs." He pointed to Diedre. "From now on, you're Query." Now Riddler pointed at Nina. "You're Echo."

"Huh?" asked Nina. "What sense does that make?" "Figure it out for yourself," said The Riddler. It was because Query had volunteered to help The Riddler and Echo had gone along with it, becoming an echo. Kind of lame, yes. They couldn't all be lines in quotable comedies.

 _Now I have brawn as well as brains on my side. Beware Batman, beware!_

 **Batman's perspective:**

Another day, another armed robbery. But this had the full attention of The Batman. The security footage Gordon, Freeman, Bullock, and Montoya had shown him revealed that it was of The Riddler holding up the 3rd National Bank of Gotham City. He seemed to have recruited two costumed ladies calling themselves Query and Echo who actually stood in shooting stances as they intimidated the tellers with guns. They also seemed to have the street smarts and intuition that the otherwise ingenious Riddler lacked. This case had just gotten even harder.

"Rewind to the riddles," Batman told Gordon. Gordon did so. "Before we go," said the recording of The Riddler, "Here's some points for that gray bag of hot air to ponder. Why will I do business with wetness in two nights? If at first you don't succeed, pry, pry again."

"At least we know one thing," said Bullock. "He's hittin' a riverfront place." "Probably," agreed Batman. But he that was a little too easy to figure out.

"What about 'try','" asked Freeman, noting the correct use of that old saying. "there aren't any riverfront places worth hitting that have that word in the title."

"But there is a riverfront restaurant called The Prying lobster," said Montoya.

"Then that's the place," said Gordon.

"I don't know," doubted Batman. "He's shown himself to extremely cunning and has two extra minds helping him. This seems too easy."

"Or maybe he's getting cocky," offered Freeman. "A lot of hoods we have trouble catching get smug and sloppy."

"If crminals were _really_ smart, they wouldn't be crminals," agreed Montoya.

"Is there anywhere else the riddles could lead?" asked Gordon. Batman couldn't think of an answer. "Then The Prying Lobster's the place. Keep in touch with us with this communicator." With that, Gordon handed a communicator to Batman.

Batman couldn't shake his doubts. He had a bad feeling about this...

As Batman feared, nothing seemed to be happening at The Prying Lobster. He called Gordon on the distant building on which he was watching the roof of the restaurant that The Riddler was hitting. "Relax," said Gordon. "He kept us waiting last time, too." "I'll get back to you," Batman promised. He quickly got in the Batmobile and with an eye on The Prying Lobster, called Alfred on his car phone.

"Alfred, get me the list of businesses and government buildings with the word 'pry' in them."

"Yes, sir."

In a bit, Alfred called back. "There is a jewelry store called Prying Stones."

"Where?"

"Billnoxi Street." Far from any body of water." So it didn't seem like The Riddler's target. Or was Batman overlooking something?

"Any others?"

"No, Master Bruce."

"Thank you Alfred. Goodbye."

Batman re-ascended to the top of his lookout building and again called Gordon. "Commissioner, how much do you know about the sewers?"

"Some. What's that got to do with anything?"

Instead of answering, Batman asked, "Can you go directly underneath the basement of Prying Stones through the sewers?"

"Why, yes," said Gordon. "I believe you... Oh, my God!"

"You realize that we've been played, don't you?" asked Batman.

"We'd better get there fast," realized Gordon.

"No," cautioned Batman. "I'll go. You stay. Just in case I'm wrong."

"Do you need backup?" asked Gordon. But Batman was already on his way back down to the Batmobile, having left the communicator on the lookout to be picked up by the police later.

 _Clever, Riddler. Just not clever enough._

 **The Riddler's perspective:**

The Riddler, Query and Echo had dug a hole into the basement of Prying needle from below and swiped millions in jewelry. Now they were on their way back to their apartment. Meanwhile, Batman and the police were chasing ghosts on the riverfront. Life was good.

Suddenly, The Riddler heard a thud behind him. Then splashes to both sides. He turned around to see The Batman where Query and Echo should be. Somehow, Batman had found Riddler and knocked the two women off the boat. Even with the riddles having a false meaning. And with all the equipment being on the other end of the boat, The Riddler was screwed!

"Turn off the boat, scumball," demanded Batman. Against his better judgment, The Riddler did so. They said that the reason Batman dressed like a nightly predator was to scare criminals into submission. It clearly worked all too well on The Riddler.

Still, Riddler worked up enough courage to kick at Batman. Batman caught and twisted the foot. Riddler screamed in pain and Batman moved in and seized him by the costume. "Thought I'd take easy clues from you?" asked Batman. "I know you're too smart for that." "What do you want," asked Riddler." "Only you," Batman got in his face.

But all was not lost. Query and Echo were climbing into the boat from behind and picking up the wrenches they'd brought for use as tools and... other purposes. But Batman had great senses. The Riddler needed to distract those senses. He started laughing. "A simpleminded bully like you? Catch me? You missed your calling, comedian." "Pass out with your ego problems," said Batman, winding up.

 _Please hurry, girls._

Batman spun around an instant too late to stop Query from braining him with a wrench. This began a pattern of the women taking turns hitting Batman over the head with their wrenches. Upon seeing that Batman was beat down and groggy The Riddler ordered, "Stop! Query, get the arms. Echo, the legs." They did so. "Hold him up but clear a path to the back." "Aye, aye, Cap'n Riddler" both girls said, lifting Batman up.

First things first. The Riddler placed a phone on the back of the boat to record this moment for posterity. Then he got the other things he needed: rope and a very heavy can of extra boat fuel, which he securely tied the rope to.

"Before I forget," complimented The Riddler. "Bravo, girls!" He clapped his hands and made "Rah, Rah" sounds, much to Query and Echo's joy. "Anything to say, Batman?" asked The Riddler. "Good work," said Batman, sheepishly.

"What would you do without us?" asked Query. "Be eating that horrible prison food," Echo answered that question. Then The Riddler's henchwomen turned to Batman. "Let's see how you like swimming in that filthy sewer water," threatened Query." Echo added," For the whole trip back. You've got a lot of showering to do."

"Correction," said The Riddler. "He's not leaving this sewer. First we tie him up. Then we tie him to the spare fuel tank. _Then_ he goes over." "But that would drown him," said Echo. "You want us break his arms and legs, fine." offered Query. "But we're not murderers."

The Riddler groaned. Partners with consciences made things more difficult. Women. "Self-defense is not murder," He tried to explain. "Let him live and he will never stop chasing us. I'm wanted for at least fifty years in charges. I'm not taking any chances. Besides, I'm crazy! I'd rather die than ever lose to this bastard! This is not business. It's personal."

"He's failed so far," Query tried one last time. "Let him try again," said Echo. "He'll just get embarassed again." "No," demanded Riddler. "The Bat has got to go." "You know what he's asking you to do is wrong," Batman said. The Riddler was now scared again. Was Batman about to turn the girls against him with an appeal to morals?

"Sorry, pal," apologized Query. "He gave us a chance to get rich. We owe him." "He's the boss," added Echo. If he says you die, you die."

With that settled, The Riddler tied Batman's knees together, then his wrists together. "Before we part company for the last time..." said Riddler before reaching for Batman's mask. A headbutt had Riddler on the ground. "Don't let go of him," he said quickly. "Fine. We'll just kill you without knowing you." He lifted the fuel tank to which the rope was already tied to onto the barrier on the side, ready to be pushed into the water. "As you drown, try this one. What holiday are we celebrating tonight? Dunk!"

"God forgive me," said Query. Echo said something in Chinese that The Riddler assumed meant something similar. Nontheless, they pushed Batman into the water and The Riddler did the same thing to the fuel tank. That was that. The war with The Batman was over and the skinny man in green pajamas stood victorious. Time to baffle the police, get rich, and maybe take over the city.

Fifty-three minutes later, with The Riddler and his accomplices back at the apartment and changed into sleeping clothes, Riddler noticed that the other two were depressed. "We had to do it," The Riddler consoled them. "Why don't I count you your shares? That should cheer you up." And a minute into the money count, it had.

 **Batman's perspective:**

Batman had been dragged to the bottom of the sewer to drown.

 _No! Don't panic. You can do this._

Accordingly, Batman recollected himself and after minutes of struggling, he had freed his arms. With the use of those arms, he had no trouble unbinding his legs. Trouble was, he had dropped too far and been underwater for too long. It was still going to be close. Very close. His head was getting heavy and his eyes wanted to shut when he reached the surface and sweet, filthy, sewer air.

Of course, nearly drowning had left Batman winded. He swam to and laid down on concrete land to the side, huffing and puffing. Before too long, though, he was up and about. That had been his closest call yet! He had to stop The Riddler as soon as possible.

Wait! Hadn't The Riddler given him one last riddle? Of course! Something about celebrating a holiday. There were no American holidays that fell on that night. And Batman very much doubted The Riddler pretended to believe in Echo's Chinese holidays.

Unless Batman had been thrown another blind? Wait. There were hotels and apartments with the word "holiday" in their names. Batman tried looking into that. Sure enough, he came to recognize photos of three occupants of an apartment named Holiday Stop as what The Riddler, Query and Echo would look like in regular clothes.

Sneaking into Eddie Nygma's, AKA, The Riddler's bedroom, Batman shook the face of a sleeping Eddie. Eddie awakened and screamed. "Yes, I found you... Riddler," said Batman gruffly. Then he heard the door behind him open and turned to face a shocked Diedre and Nina. "You're dead," they insisted. "This is how dead I am," said Batman, cracking his knuckles.

Diedre and Nina advanced towards Batman, but the Dark Knight was faster, shooting both fists out to strike them in the noses, then slamming their heads together three times to knock them out!

Batman seized his remaining foe by the shirt. "I had no idea you hit girls," said Eddie. "Shut up," rejected Batman. "You're lucky I don't do away with the three of you like you tried to do away with me. But that's what separates me from you."

Soon enough, the police arrived. As The Riddler and a still sore-headed Query and Echo were being loaded in police cars, they yelled unintelligible threats every step of the way. Batman didn't care. He knew there wouldn't be a next time so the criminals could threaten death by Dark Ages torture for all he cared.

"After all that," asked Gordon, "The final collar was that easy?" "Yes," said Batman. "He's smart but you need mind _and_ body."


	4. Game of Cat and Bat, Part I

Note: before we begin this chapter, a disclaimer. It might get some people calling me a snowflake, disrespectful to the source material or whatever, but Catwoman is black in this universe. Why? The answer is simply that I feel as though comics could use more diversity. In my defense, there have been a couple of black Catwomen in professional (OK, 2004's _Catwoman_ movie was only technically professional) media adaptations. Besides, race isn't particularly important to this character. There's no cultural uniqueness to a poor girl who grows up having to steal to survive and becomes a world class thief. Without further ado...

 **Selina Kyle's perspective, eighteen years ago:**

At the age of nine, Selina Kyle was already living a very hard life.

Her mother, Maria, had died in childbirth. She and her husband, Brian, couldn't afford a decent operation. Factory workers like Brian and waitresses like Maria are paid thanklessly little. So while death by childbirth was extremely unlikely under normal circumstances, the chances rose to barely realistic with Dr. Roberts, the cheap, bad surgeon who Brian and Maria had no choice but to turn to. As poor Maria's luck would have it, she "beat" the odds.

Obviously, Brian had mixed feelings about the birth of his daughter, Selina. He had lost one loved one but gained another. Having to raise a child on his own, Brian spent as much time as possible on Selina. Brian taught the growing girl black culture, any part of her education that school had missed, how to get around in Gotham City, and, at a remarkably early age, how to take care of yourself when home alone. Brian couldn't consistently afford a babysitter and you can't count on help in the ghetto, since hardly anyone in that part of town is without problems of their own, so he had no choice but to leave Selina home alone.

Or almost home alone for by the time Selina turned five, she had adopted her first pet cat, Cleo, named after the Egyptian Queen with the same name. Selina seemed to have taken after her mother, at least where love of cats was concerned. And a good thing for Selina, too; a child needs company in the hours after school when daddy is still working.

A few months after Selina's 9th birthday, she heard knocking on the door of her ugly, smelly apartment. It was a pair of policemen. "I don't know how to tell you this," said one, "But your father..." "What about him?" asked Selina. "He's dead," said the other. Selina may as well have heard that the Earth was about to collide with the Moon. "He was... drunk," continued the second policeman. "We tried to stop him from driving under Jack Daniels' spell but he attacked. We had no choice."

You must understand that a child's mind is very vulnerable to fear and panic. This was all it took. Selina immediately bolted out of the apartment before she felt sure she would've been shot dead herself. The officers were in pursuit. "We didn't mean for it to happen," assured the first." "Don't be a fool," said the other. "You need a guardian." Selina felt that she had to get away or what happened to her father would happen to her.

Selina ran into an alley. She knew what she was doing. The barrier up ahead had a gap that an adult couldn't fit through, but Selina could. She ran a couple more blocks away to officially lose her pursuers. Because she had separated the cops from their car, she was clean away. She could take a breather.

If you love your pet and have earned his/her love, chances are you won't lose that pet if either of you can help it. Sure enough, Cleo came by. Smiling, Selina picked up, petted, and basked in her purring. This made Selina feel a little better about how her life had suddenly changed but only a little. "Thank you so much," whispered Selina. "You're all I have left."

She stopped and thought. Should she had ran? She wanted to believe that she shouldn't have because the alternative was a life on the run. Only one complication: she doubted her daddy had actually drank and attacked the police. He was extremely self-accountable and believed strongly in right and wrong. Selina did not believe him to be capable of irresponsibility, let alone attack officers just for trying to help.

But Selina did believe that this unfair society was capable of murdering her father. Already it had forced a mother she would never know to rely on an incompetent doctor. This was why that mother of Selina's was no longer with us. Selina was also getting old enough to understand Gotham's dirty little not-so-secret: it had one of the most corrupt police forces in all of North America! Selina felt certain this was the policemen's fault. What the details actually were, the story does not tell.

What Selina could know for sure was that Cleo's belly was growling. Selina had hardly ever fed the cat. Brian had. But dead men don't feed. Selina had no money to buy cat food with. She saw a man passing by. There was a bulge in his side pocket. A wallet? Selina carefully walked behind him.

One thing gave Selina pause. She knew that her parents would never have approved. But then, they had been killed by society. A society that now hunted Selina. If she wanted to be free, she had to steal to survive. D _o it._ Using the hand skills that she had developed playing Jacks and sports with other children, Selina successfully took the wallet from the man's pocket without getting his attention. Now Selina could buy cat food.

Upon feeding Cleo, Selina knew that whatever path her life was on had changed when the boys in blue came to her apartment. She had chosen a life of crime. Corrupt society or not, she still had doubts. But she pushed those doubts aside. She couldn't trust the cops. Not after they'd killed her father.

 **Batman's perspective, present day:**

Batman answered the beaconing call coming from the rooftop of GCPD HQ. Unlike the other time, Commissioner Gordon was facing him. "I prefer facing you when you come," said Gordon. "Better for my heart. We're getting complaints from the wealthier civilians about a new cat-burglar." "Back up a second," interjected Batman. "Are you asking me to prioritize crimes against the wealthiest people over those against the common people?" While Batman was one of the richest people in the world, his late parents had taught him to have respect for the less fortunate who nonetheless keep society going with their blood, sweat, and tears. There was a reason he had come to see Alfred as almost family.

"First of all," said Gordon, "I don't appreciate the allegation. We depend of the businessmen to keep this city going. We have enough problems with a strong economy. I've done a great deal to cut back on corruption in this city's police." Batman could not accept that apology but realized that police corruption was indeed not as bad as it had been a year before. He let Gordon continue.

"Second, this is no ordinary burglar. Nobody's gotten a good look at him but he seems to dress in black leather and have a mask with cat-like ear protrusions. We call him The Cat."

"A literal cat burglar?" asked Batman. Gordon nodded. "So I've been plagiarized," realized Batman. "He may not have much imagination," cautioned Gordon, "But he seems to be a perfect thief. He's left no clues. Somehow, he's avoided more than vague sightings even on security cameras. I realize that catching him with nothing to go on may seem impossible, but I don't want the PR backlash from the socialites in penthouses if we can't convince them that we did our best." "I will certainly do my best," assured Batman.

Upon returning to the Batcave, Batman looked over the bad camera shots and estimated drawings of The Cat Gordon had handed over. "I take it I should be glad I didn't choose a security job right now?" asked Alfred. "Gordon was right about one thing," Batman explained. "He's good. Never makes a sound. Never gets out of safe areas even a microsecond longer than necessary. Wears a mask, fully clothed, shockproof gloves in case of electrical barriers protecting what he's stealing, Swings on a whip and uses metal 'claws' on his fingertips to open locks. So he's armed and dangerous while still having plausible deniability on that extra charge."

"Why do you always get the easy missions, sir?" asked Alfred. "I just do," Batman played along. "One consistency in these robberies is that they're usually happening in high-priced penthouses and the occasional mansion." "Surely all you have to do is listen for news of the next robbery," Alfred suggested. "Since he's not rich enough to afford anything that can compete with the Batmobile, you should be able to catch up."

"No," disagreed Batman. "Knowing him, he has sense enough to stash normal clothes somewhere. If it takes more than minute for me to catch up, The Cat could vanish from the face of the earth! But I do have an idea of where his next robbery might be. He seems to be doing this on Mondays and Thursdays. Daniel and Marcia le Blanco recently purchased a very, very nice diamond necklace. They live in a penthouse called Ivory Gotham. I think that's where The Cat will go next Thursday."

"Two days from now," noted Alfred. "I have done all my work for today. It seems you have as well, Master Bruce. Chess or a movie?" "How is it possible that you helped raise me yet still don't know me that well?" asked Bruce. "Ever since my parents died, Chess doesn't feel the same; movies don't look the same. The only fulfillment I get anymore is from protecting the innocent and frightening the guilty." Batman thought some more. "Well, I guess I do have at least some happiness when going out with Christie but we don't have a date arranged. But all that being true, I still have down time to waste. Make it a movie. Go ahead and choose which one."

The big night finally came. Batman was hiding in a shadow on the ground and a good distance away from Ivory Gotham. While going unnoticed was ordinarily as easy as sticking to rooftops and being careful about moving between them, The Cat seemed to be no ordinary thief. Sure enough, Batman eventually caught sight of a person sneaking around to the penthouse.

Using his Batscope, Batman was able to see that this was someone in black leather, a mask with two protrusions up high that looked like cat ears, and a pair of red nightvision lenses attached to the mask that could be moved onto the forehead or over the eyes, depending on which this person chose. More than 90% probability that this was the suspect. Even though the shape of the body said that The Cat was not a man but a woman.

Batman watched as the person he had mentally renamed The Catwoman climbed up to the suite of the le Blancos, carefully extracted a glass segment from a window with her claws, entered, and climbed back down to the ground with a diamond necklace around her neck. She was walking the sidewalk, presumably to where she planned to change clothes. Batman couldn't wait any longer. He stealthily followed until he was close enough to throw a Batarang at her. But at the last second, Catwoman turned around, stretched and bent her right leg for a provocative dodge. "Too bad, so sad," she taunted. "By the way, Batman, I really think you should keep those eyes off my legs."

As Catwoman stood up, Batman asked, "How long did you know I was there?" "Before I came to this rich people's apartment," explained Catwoman. "I'll save you the trouble of asking why I came anyway. I want a fun game." "One that involves copyright infringement?" asked Batman. "Highest form of flattery," said Catwoman, fleeing.

The chase was on! Unfortunately, Batman had discovered the way to escape a freak athlete like himself: get an even better pair of legs. For Catwoman was rapidly pulling ahead. Didn't look like even Jesse Owens in his prime could have caught her. Batman needed a Plan B. He used his Batgrapple to get on a higher perch from which to swing around. This allowed him to catch up. He saw Catwoman take a quick look back and, thinking that Batman had been left in the dust, chuckle. Before long, Catwoman had ducked into an alley. Batman was literally looking down on her from above. Catwoman turned around to wait and see if Batman found her. After a couple minutes she said, "I expected a challenge."

That was Batman's cue.. He dropped down in front of Catwoman and said, "So you'll have it." But Catwoman hadn't lost her playful smirk. "As a girl, I'd rather fly than fight," she explained, "But I can and will enjoy kicking wingspans and taking names." Batman doubted that was more than an idle threat from someone who couldn't weigh much more than one hundred twenty. Still, he assumed a fighting stance just in case.

His caution was warranted as he staggered back from a hopping knee strike under the chin that he hadn't even seen coming. A follow-up snap kick quickly but harmlessly struck the kevlar covering Batman's left hip. But Catwoman's right boot snapped up again across Batman's jaw. Since that turned Catwoman around and she seemed to have some martial arts knowledge, Batman figured a side kick with the left leg was coming. Batman caught the boot but Catwoman leaned down and pressed her hands against the floor to get good enough balance to start sending her free boot into Batman's chin. Batman had been caught in his own trap and fell to the ground after the fourth kick.

The moment Batman got to his knees, he felt a claw strike across his left cheek and grunted. He log rolled away just before Catwoman's other hand would have clawed the other cheek but the damage was done. Batman's cheek felt like it was burning in four places.

"Aw, poor Batman's been injured," said Catwoman. "Thanks for letting me know," Batman pointed out that Catwoman had told him that was bleeding badly. "Believe me," said Catwoman, "Pleasure's all mine."

Batman needed to get some offense going, especially now that he was bleeding. He advanced towards Catwoman and tried a jab-jab-cross combo that was easily dodged and countered with a maneuver behind Batman, knee to the buttocks, and step in front to set up a reverse elbow. Batman backed up and was felled by a jump kick.

"Nighty-night," declared Catwoman as she lifted her boot over Batman's face to cave it in. Instead, Batman caught the boot in his hands again. This time he didn't wait for a counterattack. He dragged Catwoman down and started swinging her around in circles by the leg, the force and kinetic energy overwhelming her. Batman finally let go, launching Catwoman into a dumpster, head-first! Catwoman immediately began screaming and panting in agony. Ordinarily, Batman wasn't above inflicting non-fatal injury on criminals, even women. Somehow, he felt as though he should say, "Let me see how bad I hurt you" and did so. He stood over her to get a good look at the head that just met rusty metal. Sure enough, Batman saw even with the mask that Catwoman was bleeding through a cut in her forehead. The payback check for the claws to Batman's cheek had been cashed.

Suddenly, Catwoman's hands grabbed hold of Batman's ankles. Before Batman fully realized this, he felt a sharp pain in his groin. Catwoman began laughing as she struck Batman's balls two more times with her right knee. Three hits to a man's weakest spot were too much. Batman fell on his left side, clutching his aching balls and moaning. As close to a scream in pain as you can get from the hardy, mentally tortured Dark Knight.

Despite the pain, Batman had enough presence of mind to look around to see what Catwoman's next move would be. She drew a whip out of a side holster and took a practice crack. Batman could see from that crack that Catwoman was skilled with a whip. Like Batman's luck was going to change. He got up and prepared to defend his bloody face because that was where Catwoman would aim. Instead, the first lash hit the chink in his right knee, stinging him. She'd figured out Batman's armor. Not good.

The next two lashes hit the right elbow and left shoulder. Next came a fake-out to the groin before the whip looped around Batman neck and dragged him to the ground. Obviously, there was also strangulation. "If only your macho fans on social media could see you now", gloated Catwoman, stepping on the whip to increase pressure. "But seriously, I've won. You're looking at gagging to death or a broken neck. Give up. C'mon, don't make me be a bad girl."

Batman's answer to that was to slowly stand up, oblivious to the crackling in his neck from pulling against the pressure. Hadn't broken yet. A swift pull on the whip with all the strength he had left launched Catwoman towards him to be kicked aside. This gave Batman a chance to get the whip off his throat. Of course, that left him tired, breathless, and certainly unable to stop a roundhouse kick from decking him.

Catwoman winded up to get the whip around his neck again. Batman countered by drawing a Batarang and throwing it just in time to sever the whip. Catwoman backed up with three handspring backflips. As Batman got back up, he realized that his never coming up with an answer to Catwoman's speed was what had gotten him dominated that night. Had to counter it or Batman was done.

Perhaps instead of trying to run with Catwoman, Batman should try to defend against Catwoman's speed and counter. She charged but this time Batman didn't try to beat her speed. Two kicks and a claw strike were blocked before Catwoman was decked by a right cross. Catwoman got up and kicked high. Batman ducked and delivered two body blows that had her staggering back. Time to attack her confidence. "The prison guards will beat you worse than this," said Batman, playing a mind game. Sure enough Catwoman charged forward to strike with her claws. But Batman caught both reckless arms by the wrists and twisted them. Catwoman grunted in pain. A headbutt to the wounded forehead had Catwoman on her back. Batman had come back from near oblivion!

Batman dropped down onto Catwoman, holding the shoulders in place while closing Batman's own legs to protect his still-sore balls. "Nice comeback," complimented Catwoman. She took off her right glove and began gently stroking Batman's cheek scratches. Suddenly, they, and for that matter, Batman's balls, no longer felt like they hurt much. "Feel better?" asked Catwoman. Batman was taken aback. He was actually asking himself whether he wanted to leave this woman for the police or take her to the Batcave.

Catwoman seemed to realize that Batman was being worn down and smiled. "One good turn deserves another," requested Catwoman. "How about a hard - but not too hard - rub on my forehead." Batman froze. "It's just a rub." She then groaned in pain. Batman knew Catwoman was probably faking it but a hand began rubbing the mask over her forehead. Catwoman took off her other glove and put both bare hands on Batmans face. "Thanks," she said leaning in to kiss.

At the last moment, Batman turned Catwoman around onto her stomuch and began tying her up with a Batrope. "Pussy," said Catwoman. Actually, this was a hard thing for Batman to do. But he had to. He doubted Catwoman returned his feelings. She was only trying to take advantage of them. Besides, she was a criminal and the law was the law.

After using a nearby pay phone to call the police, Batman waited. He usually wouldn't but Catwoman might escape before the officers arrived.

Tied up and hanging by a lamppost, Catwoman pointed out, "You know you want it." "It's not gonna happen," said Batman. "Why," asked a persistent Catwoman. "Because I'm black? Guess that bitch at _Gothic Report_ is right." Actually, that woman by the name of Christie Whitlock was one of the reasons, but Batman couldn't say that. "It's the careers and you know it," he said. "I know plenty of burglars and drug dealers who have good relationships with cops," tried Catwoman. She didn't give up. The police had arrived at this point. "Last chance to change your mind," Catwoman smiled at him. Batman's answer to that was to walk away and never look back.

 **Catwoman's perspective:**

So much for romance. Batman had almost gone for Catwoman and she kind of liked him but that ticket out of jail hadn't been punched.

Now she was in the care of two cops, one young and black, one middle-aged and white. A shot from the older one's pistol dropped Catwoman from lamppost to the sidewalk. She tried to get up and hop away, knowing it couldn't work and was tackled by the younger cop. "You have a right to remain silent," said the older one. "Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided to you at no cost to yourself."

The young cop began stroking Catwoman's right shoulder. "This is one fine, fine lady," he said. The older cop chuckled. "Wanna feel her?" asked the younger one. "I would," said the older one. "But my wife finds out everything, and I'm not goin' down _that_ road again. Besides, I need to tell headquarters that we got The Cat and that 'he's' a woman." As he walked away, Catwoman said, "If you let this pervert do this, you're both gon' be in big trouble!" "Who are they gonna believe?" asked the cop. "Two members of Gotham's finest or a thief we caught with someone else's diamond necklace?" "I was really hoping you wouldn't ask that," Catwoman admitted in defeat. She had been reminded of why she disliked society.

As the older cop walked to his car to contact headquarters, the younger one was kissing Catwoman's right shoulder and moving up to the cheek. Catwoman hoped he was having a good time, because he was too lost in hormones to notice Catwoman arms wiggling out of the ropes, and the other one was preoccupied.

Catwoman was turned around so she was looking up at this lusty cop. "Time to open the present," he said. But Catwoman's arms were free and picked the pistol out of the cop's holster at the exact same moment that he began pulling on Catwoman's mask. He stopped upon feeling the gun in his face. "Untie the rest of my ropes," said Catwoman." "You can't get out like this," bluffed the cop quietly. Catwoman cocked the gun and pretty soon the cop had freed her.

Getting up, Catwoman whispered, "To the side of the car. And no warning your partner... or else." The cop did so. Now to deal with the middle-aged one. She moved in position to shoot the other when he came out of the car. When he did, Catwoman said, "Throw your gun this way, please." The demand was granted and both cops raised their hands.

"This is all your fault!" accused the older cop. "My fault?" protester the young cop. "You took your eyes off her and wanted to do it, too." "Shut up," commanded Catwoman. "As far mama's concerned, you're _both_ disgraces to the force." The asshole cops had gone from cocky to angry to scared. Their fear was yummy.

"Are you gonna kill us," the older cop asked, weakly. "I'm thinking about it," said Catwoman. It wasn't like they'd tried to rape her or anything. At the end of the day, she had a heart. But that didn't mean she wouldn't try to punish them in another way. "I don't know who I'd rather screw with," she said. "Little boys like you or real men like Batman. You're just bugs to squash. What's the point? But Batman beat me and I really don't like to lose." "Get used to it," suggested the young cop. "Nobody can beat The Batman." "He had to come back from the beating of his life," Catwoman informed him. "There ain't no moral victories," said the older one. "Shut up," ordered Catwoman. "Throw your keys away and cuff yourselves to that car door."

That took care of those crooked cops. And Catwoman still had the necklace around her neck. Wasn't her prettiest victory but as that cop said, a win was a win. She dashed into the alley where she'd left her clawed gloves and retrieved them. She would replace the broken whip in the morning. She was already looking forward to her next meeting with Batman.

 **Batman's perspective:**

An unmasked Batman was had an ice pack under his scrotum and was having his left cheek stitched up by Alfred. "A very dangerous feline you caught, eh Master Bruce?" the butler asked. "Yes," said Batman. "But she's in jail by now with her cover blown and assets seized." "Then all's well that ends well," concluded Alfred. "Probably," said Batman. "It's just that... I had a hard time turning her over to the police."

"I won't pretend to not know the reason."

"She tried to seduce me, Alfred."

"Sounds like she succeeded," figured Alfred. Batman's heart sank as realized that this was true. A weak part of him wanted to free Catwoman and take her home.

"If Madam Christie found out Master Bruce were attracted to a criminal?" wondered Alfred.

"She'd torture me to death for three days," explained Bruce. "After a long speech about how she'd been right about Batman all along."

 **Selina Kyle's perspective:**

Catwoman had returned to her apartment. Her roommate, Sabisia Brown, was still there. Sabisia was a longtime friend of Selina Kyle's. They had met at the age of fourteen when both were in juvenile hall. They escaped together months later and Sabisia, while an amateur criminal, had helped Selina prepare for her jobs ever since.

"Daaamn," explained Sabisia. "What happened?" "The Batman happened," explained Selina. "Get me some ointment and cotton." I'll change. And so Catwoman did. After a quick change in her bedroom and a washing out of her mask, she was Selina Kyle, who _seemed_ to be just another poor black girl.

Sabisia applied the ointment and cotton, the latter of which was tied to Selina's forehead with cloth. The best friends sat together on the couch and Sabisia asked, "So he beat the shit out of you like he does to all the others, then?" "Actually, I beat the shit out of _him_ for awhile. Then he came back just as I was about to choke him to death with my whip! Even then, I had him mentally undressing me."

"Men," said Sabisia. Selina laughed. "Just before he wouldn't have been able to take his hands off me, he turned me over to the police. Fortunately, they were dumb perverts so I'm still here."

"Is he as cute as the rumors?" asked Sabisia. "Maybe cuter," said Selina. "I don't really know. The upper part of his face could be gross for all I know."

"So what's next?" asked Sabisia.

"First things first," prioritized Selina. "I have to sell the necklace to The Still Lips." You couldn't sell a diamond necklace to a regular store without raising questions of how you got it. "Then I prepare for round 2."

"I dunno," cautioned Sabisia. "He did get you tonight."

"Barely," admitted Selina. "Besides, The Catwoman plans to cheat. The Still Lips should be willing to help rid this town of their greatest threat. If they'll let me, I'll finish seducing him to our side of things." Selina gestured with her right hand as though she were were holding a baseball. "His heart's gon' be in my hand, one way or another!"

 **To be continued...**


	5. Game of Cat and Bat, Part II

**Selina's pespective:**

Selina Kyle was in her day job as a waitress, just like her mother was. In the spirit of tradition, Selina chose to work at Manny's, the very restaurant her mother did. Mornings and afternoons were spent serving customers food and drink. Although many of the men found her attractive, and this had taken some getting used to, nobody saw any other reason to look at her too much. Why would they? Just another poor black woman in a dead-end job who had incurred a head wound from working too hard, right? Wrong.

Selina rushed back to her car during lunch break. She had half an hour to do this. She drove to a safe place to change into her Catwoman persona, then moved to where she was to fence the diamond necklace.

She met two men, a skinny guy named Mugsy and an eight-footer named Rhino (editor's note: I have _not_ changed the race of these characters). They were a pair of higher-ups in a gang called The Still Lips. Rhino walked towards The Catwoman. "It hurt waitin' to see ya again," said the big guy, reaching out to touch Catwoman. "I've touched you before," rejected Catwoman. "Go ahead and look but don't touch if you value your skin." "I _really_ don't think she likes you," chuckled Mugsy. "She's holdin' it in," insisted Rhino.

"I'm here for business," Catwoman got to the point. "I see you got the necklace," noticed Mugsy. "Scarface thanks you. What's with the cloth, by the way." You could see a bit of the cloth on Catwoman's forehead that fastened cotton to her head wound. "The Batman's handiwork," she said. She and Mugsy traded the necklace with a check for $50,000.

"Not done," said Catwoman. "I think I'm ready to meet your boss, now." "How come?" asked Mugsy. "Because I want to take out Batman." "We're not hitmen," said Mugsy. "Don't be a pussy!" said Rhino. "You mean practical," corrected Mugsy. "He's dangerous." "So am I," Catwoman tried to reassure him. "Yeah, I can tell that," Mugsy smiled, pointing at the cloth around Catwoman's forehead. "Hey, you know she's a tough..." began Rhino. Catwoman better not let him defend her. "I'm still not going out with you," she interrupted, turning to Rhino, then back to Mugsy. "He had to come back from a beating. He's worse for wear himself. If we work together, we''ve got him! I know it."

"I think I can take him, myself," boasted Rhino. "Big words," noted Catwoman. "Back them up and you'll help your chances with me." To about a snowball's chance in Hell. Mugsy sighed and wrote something down on a piece of paper. "Come to this address at seven," he said, giving Catwoman the paper. "Just don't be shocked by the boss. He's kinda... unusual." "Believe me," said Catwoman. "After fighting Batman, I'm ready for any kind of weirdness."

 _You better hope the boss is as cowardly as Mugsy, Batman._

 **Bruce's perspective:**

After a morning of checking stocks and employee productivity, it was time for Bruce Wayne to use his lunch break to check the crime news. Odd. Nothing about Catwoman having been arrested. What the Hell was going on?

Bruce dialed Alfred on his cell phone. "Hello, Master Bruce," said Alfred. "Check the records of the city jail for The Catwoman," ordered Bruce.

"Sir..."

"She doesn't seem to be there, does she, Alfred?"

"No, sir."

"Have a good afternoon Alfred."

"Goodbye, Master Bruce."

So Catwoman had escaped those officers. Bruce wondered how. She'd been tied up for them. Now The Batman had to do it all over again. And now that Catwoman knew he was after her, it may be more difficult, and Batman had barely survived as it was!

 **Catwoman's perspective:**

Selina's workday was over, as were the fast food trip and bit of binge-watching she'd done on her phone to kill the two hours before the meeting with the boss of The Still Lips. It was Catwoman time.

Upon entering, she heard Rhino behind her. "Don't do it, big man!" She demanded. But Rhino grabbed her from behind anyway. "You're ready," said Rhino. "I know _I_ am." Catwoman stuck her right claws into Rhino's left elbow. He grunted and his grip loosened enough for Catwoman to break free. "It can hurt worse," she threatened. Rhino seemed more energized than scared but said, "Maybe I'll give you a week to sort through your feelings." _Self-delusional pig!_

Catwoman finally found Mugsy in the main room where they were making meth to sell. "Rhino groped me," complained Catwoman. "That's too far," Mugsy said calmly. "I can try to stop him but he's a big guy who's been able to take most anything he wants." "Or anyone?" asked Catwoman. Mugsy nodded "Thanks for nothing," lamented Catwoman. "Where's the boss?" "Right this way," said Mugsy, leading her to what could only have been that boss' office. "Rhino can't come," insisted Catwoman. Turning his head to look back, Mugsy called, "You heard the woman, Rhino!" Rhino stopped following; Catwoman sighed in relief.

They entered to see a balding white man in his fifties sitting in his desk. This man was operating a dummy with a tommy gun with one of his hands. "You must be The Catwoman," he said, standing up and bowing. "Pleased to meet you, dear, l..." "Shut up," Catwoman could have sworn she heard the dummy say. "She ain't dat kinda girl."

Catwoman laughed. This was hilarious! "Funny," said Catwoman. "But I'd much rather..."

"TALK TA ME," the dummy seemed to demand. " _I'm_ the goss! Me. Scarface. The Ventriloquist here's just a she-male assistant." "Sorry," said Mugsy. "She don't..." "You better catch on right damn now," said Scarface, ignoring Mugsy. "Dis is loaded." He then fired a burst of bullets over Catwoman's head.

 _I work with a crazy nut. Selina, where did you screw up?_

What was done was done. Batman was the ene... rival here. Catwoman just had to calm Scarface, The Ventriloquist's alternate personality, or whoever the Hell it was, long enough for them to set a trap for Batman.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Scarface," Catwoman smiled sweetly. "I do believe you're a great businessman." "If I want my ass kissed," said Scarface, "I can talk ta Mugsy or Rhino." But he wasn't angry anymore. Progress had been made.

"So you want to take out Da Gat, Eh?" asked Scarface "Too dangerous," objected The Ventriloquist. "He doesn't even know about us. We can stay in hi..." "Shut up, pussy!" ridiculed Scarface. "He's a great detective," Catwoman agreed with Scarface. "He'll find you eventually unless you do something about him." "I doubt it," said Scarface. "But I wanna whack him out!"

"I'd rather capture him," said Catwoman. "Got the hots fer Da Gat?" asked Scarface. "No shame in dat," he cut off whatever Catwoman was about to say. "All da girls want 'im. No accountin' fer taste. But I want 'im dead. Plenty 'o guys out dere for ya dat I don't want dead. He busted up some ventures 'o mine. Nobody does dat to Scarface."

"OK," said Catwoman. She could do it that way, too. She liked Batman, but that just meant that it was too bad he had to get in her way.

"Den we hit City Hall," declared Scarface. "Gordon's doin' a speech there soon," explained Mugsy. "Gonna get a crowd!" "Do we have to kill hundreds of people who we don't have a beef with?" asked Catwoman.

"Are you gettin' soft?" Scarface answered Catwoman's question with a question.

"No."

"So what's the problem?"

"I just don't... see how this is necessary." Catwoman felt that she should sound uncertain, not argumentative. Scarface was nuts! Wouldn't take much to set him off.

"Know why Al Capone owned Chicago?" asked Scarface. Catwoman shook her head. "'Cause he scared people. I wanna do da same. Al had his own massacre, ya know."

"Didn't he get caught?" asked Catwoman. "I AIN'T GETTIN' CAUGHT," Scarface barked. Catwoman shut up. _Don't get yourself shot_. "Now, here's the plan," Scarface continued. "You get Da Gat over here. Make it look like yer helpin' him. Then we'll come out and as he prepares to defend himself, catch him off guard and..." Scarface fired a burst of bullets into the ceiling. "Any question?"

"How do I get him here?" asked Catwoman. "Gordon's got his ear," explained Scarface. "Get da old man to call Da Gat. Tell Da Gat 'gout us and pretend to side wit' him."

Scarface may have been crazy but he seemed smart. He had come up with a foolproof trap. Only problem was that Catwoman had some serious doubts about working with a psycho. "Be ready tomorrow night," she nonetheless said.

 **Batman's perspective:**

The bad news was that Batman's (with the face cuts he'd incurred the previous night bandaged) patrol for the night picked up nothing on Catwoman's whereabouts. The good news was that he had stopped a few crimes against the common people that night, which were arguably more important ones than those committed by Catwoman. Wealthy people could recover from robberies. Others couldn't.

But Batman couldn't take solace in that. He had been foiled. He could rationalize that it was two policemen who let Catwoman get away all he wanted, but it wouldn't change the fact that Batman beat Catwoman but didn't bring her to justice. Besides, she had come too close for comfort to either slaying or corrupting The Dark Knight.

But there was something much worse than that: there was a part of him that was _happy_ to have failed to apprehend the woman that the press now called The Princess of Plunder. It was as good an explanation as any for why he hadn't gone after Commissioner Gordon about how his officers screwed everything up. Or at least Batman was trying to look at it as a screw-up.

Upon returning to the Batcave, Alfred asked, "What troubles you, sir?" "What makes you think anything is?" asked Batman. "Fathers always know that about their... sorry I've forgotten my place," apologized Alfred. "No you haven't," said Bruce, trying to smile. "It's Catwoman."

"No luck in catching her?" guessed Alfred. "Worse than that," said Batman. I'm not sure I want to. "Then try to reform her," Alfred suggested. "She's a bad woman," pointed out Batman. She'll never change. "Let's test that," said Alfred. "Here's what we know about The Catwoman." "She's goes after upscale-to-wealthy places. Does not try to hurt anyone unless backed into a corner. Was she determined to kill you?" "No," said Batman. "In fact, when she thought she had me, she implied that she'd accept a surrender."

"I've heard enough," concluded Alfred. "She's not an evil woman." "Not good either," said Batman. "Stop living in a black and white world, Master Bruce," Alfred told him. "Not all criminals do what they do for greed or to exercise a bad attitude. Some have understandable motives."

Batman was moved. "The Penguin fell into the 'understandable' category," recalled Batman. "Reason with her," Alfred tried to guide Batman. "Then maybe you can have your cake and eat it too."

 **Selina's perspective:**

Selina, her costumed bagged up, had returned to her apartment. She and her roommate, Sabisia Brown, hugged. "How'd it go?" asked Sabisia. "Very well," said Catwoman. "The boss of The Still Lips has guaranteed me the support and told me how to lure Batman into a trap. Just have to follow the plan and he's one dead bat!"

But Selina had an uneasiness about her that Sabisia must have noticed because she asked, "What's the catch?" "The boss is..." Selina wasn't sure how to say this. "This won't be easy to explain. I'm not sure I can believe it myself. Arnold 'The Ventriloquist' Wesker's the weirdest person I have met. For one thing, he's not that good. Can't even say 'b' when throwing his voice. But his alternate personality, Scarface, is the boss. Scarface is a damn maniac! Gets mad at the tiniest thing! We're supposed to massacre hundreds after this."

"So you're wondering if this is right," realized Sabisia. "I know it's wrong," affirmed Selina. "But I don't know if there's anything I can do about it. Scarface isn't the kind of... character who takes no for an answer. I'm afraid there's no turning back."

"There may be one thing you haven't considered," Sabisia offered her insight.

"What could that be, Sabisia?"

"What if you made a deal with the dark angel?"

 **Commissioner Gordon's perspective:**

The next night, Commissioner Gordon was still dealing with the PR disaster that was Batman's defeat of The Catwoman and the GCPD's botching of her arrest. It had just been Hell explaining Catwoman's escape to the le Blancos and reporters! With _Gothic Report_ pressuring him to turn over Batman as it was, this was all Gordon needed. He hoped discharging the two incompetents who let Catwoman get away was enough.

Cat **woman**. To think that for weeks, the force had been looking for a man. Never underestimate the power of a woman, indeed. Her being black wasn't Gordon's first guess, either.

Surprisingly, one person who hadn't given Gordon crap about this embarrassing episode was Batman, whose hard work had been blown by Gordon's former men. He probably wouldn't be the exception for much longer. Gordon was walking into his office. He had a distinct feeling that Batman was going to be waiting for him there.

Gordon walked in to see not Batman but Catwoman, sitting in the chair, right foot on the desk, and smiling. "Nice chair," she said. "No wonder everybody on the force wants it." Gordon drew his gun only for it to be whipped out of his hand. "Don't," warned Catwoman. "C'mere." Gordon complied. "What do you want," he asked.

"Actually," said Catwoman. "It's what we both want. What you do best, old dude in distress, is call for help. I want to set a trap for Batman but can't under such short notice. You need rescuing. The cat needs to welcome the bat to her parlor."

"So where do you want to meet him?" asked Gordon. "The junkyard on Browning Street," said Catwoman. "Any sign of cops, I take off." Then she placed the claw of her right index finger on Gordon's face. "And he better show up tonight and alone, cracker. Or I'll be back tomorrow."

 **Batman's perspective:**

Batman had been summoned by Commissioner Gordon. But why? The Catwoman case remained unsolved after under a week. Was it to pressure Batman to work faster on account of the beating Gordon was taking from the local news organizations?

"I'm working as fast as I can," Batman promised from behind Gordon. Gordon gasped and jerked around to face Batman. "Two surprises like that in one night is too much," Gordon complained. "What was the first surprise," asked Batman. "Catwoman says hi from my chair," explained Gordon. "That explains everything," realized Batman.

"She wants to meet in the junkyard on Browning Street," Gordon explained. "And we can't help. She implied that she'd assault me if you don't make it alone."" "Understood," said Batman. The question of whether Catwoman could change seemed to be answered by her threatening Gordon. Then again, it could've been a bluff.

"What are you going to do?" asked Gordon. "She wants a rematch?" asked Batman. "Wish granted." "It has to be a..." Gordon began, but Batman had already jumped off and used his Batgrapple and another building to to make a safe descent to the Batmobile. Batman was sure of what Gordon was trying to tell him, but Batman wasn't shying away from a trap, especially if Gordon's life might depend on it.

Batman drove to the junkyard. Instead of entering, he got on a high spot on a building to find Catwoman from a bird's eye. No luck. Even after activating the nightvision lenses in his mask, Batman couldn't find the Princess of Plunder. And if he tried driving through the junkyard, Catwoman might flee. Any sound she might make running away wouldn't be heard over the Batmobile's engine. No choice. He had to search the junkyard on foot.

This was a very tense moment. He was constantly looking everywhere because in a junkyard, there were prime spots to plan an ambush everywhere you looked! Batman had good ears and awareness of his environment so normally his chances of spotting a sneak attack even there were ninty-nine in a hundred. But with Catwoman being one of the stealthiest people in the world, Batman gave himself less than even odds.

"Why so scared, good-lookin'?" a female voice called out behind Batman. He turned around to face Catwoman. "I don't... well I might bite in the sack." Catwoman advanced and Batman stepped back. "Why didn't you jump me from behind?" he asked "Whoever said anything about fighting?" asked Catwoman. "You're either brave or stupid," said Batman. "How do you prefer us girls?" Catwoman asked, still advancing. She stopped a few feet short of Batman.

Both rivals stared each other down for a few seconds. "What do you want?" asked Batman. "What most women want: for her man to listen," answered Catwoman. "Don't speak in riddles," said Batman, controlling his frustration.

Catwoman advanced again. "I fence valuables through a gang called The Still Lips," she said. "By the way, how's your face?" "Healing," said Batman. He noticed a bit of a cloth that Catwoman had around her head wound. "How's your head," asked Batman. "Getting there," Catwoman assured him.

Batman then realized that Catwoman had her left hand around Batman's waist and feeling up and down his back and the right one rubbing his abdomen in circles. The same attraction to this woman that Batman had felt the other night had resurfaced strongly enough for Catwoman to touch Batman. Batman needed to stop this before it went any farther than it already had.

"Enough," Batman tried to get to the point. "What about that gang?" "They're nuts," said Catwoman. "Planning a massacre. Have to be stopped. Even I know that." "Are you saying you want to do good," asked Batman. Catwoman nodded, adding, "No matter what they tell you, some thieves do have honor." "And exactly why am I going to trust you?" asked Batman. Suddenly, Catwoman's right claws had moved from Batman's midsection to his throat. Catwoman's smile changed from flirtatious to triumphant. "Because you have no choice," she declared.

"There's always a choice," disagreed Batman. "I can make a sudden move to get my neck away from your claws." Catwoman responded by moving her nose to touch Batman's nose and make a purring sound. This provoked a moan from Batman. That was all it took. Catwoman's right leg hooked around Batman's left, reducing his balance enough for him to be wrestled to the ground. Catwoman elevated herself into a straddling kneel and pressed her left hand on Batman's chest as an insurance policy to keep him from moving around. "I prefer to be on top," she declared victory. "Help me or you're Bat-Pincushion!"

This was a disgrace. Batman had let himself get charmed onto death's door. Was he really the kind of man who lost all self-control over a pretty lady, even if that pretty lady was a criminal? The unfortunate answer was yes. But he wasn't finished. He drew from his belt a Batarang and pressed it lightly against Catwoman's abdomen. "And I'll make you into cat food," he threatened. "Stalemate."

Catwoman started laughing. "What's so damn funny?" asked Batman. "You won't do that," explained Catwoman. "I'm still the boss of this relationship." She knew Batman didn't want to kill. There might, damn it all, be no other choice.

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"Oh, I've never been so sure of anything in my life!"

"How?" asked Batman. "We may not be lovers," said Catwoman, "But I'm getting to know you as only a girlfriend could. You've been trained. But I can tell you weren't in real fights or struggles before you put on that costume. Even if you could convince yourself that you want to kill, you can't do it. But I can. I had a rough childhood. I had to do some things I'm not proud of. I might feel bad about that, but I'll live. You won't."

A few seconds passed. Batman didn't know what weakness Catwoman had seen on his face, but she slapped away the Batarang. "Even Michael Jordan had his defeats," said Catwoman. "This is one of yours. Just help me with The Still Lips, OK?" "All right," Batman finally relented. What choice did he have?

Catwoman stood up and so did Batman. "Who are The Still Lips?" asked Batman. "A drug cartel lead by Scarface and The Ventriloquist," answered Catwoman. "They're actually one man with a dummy and alternate personality." "I had to ask," said Batman. "Where are they?" "I'll take you there," said Catwoman. Off Batman's reaction, Catwoman cut him off with an open hand gesture and insisted, "Not up for discussion. Do you want to stop a massacre or not?" Batman silently lead her into the Batmobile.

It wasn't a pleasant drive. Batman knew that he might be riding into a trap. When Alfred suggested that Catwoman might not be a bad person, he said nothing about circumstances staking Batman's very life on that! Four minutes into the drive, Catwoman finally broke the silence: "Cool car."

Another two minutes passed with no words. "You got a radio?" asked Catwoman. "Hope you're partial to police radio," said Batman. "You're whiter than you look," Catwoman joked. "No real radio. Must not have any fun at night. Unless of course you're married." "No," said Batman. But fun isn't a priority."

"We shouldn't be talking," said Batman. He really needed to focus. Hard to do in conversation. "Why?" asked Catwoman. "We're supposed to be enemies," Batman reminded her. "I'm not a rapist or murderer," said Catwoman. "We're rivals, not enemies. There's room for mutual respect. Maybe even more than that." She put an arm around Batman's shoulder. For just a moment, Batman felt happy about that.

 _No! This is wrong. I can't take this from a criminal, even one who might reform but hasn't yet. Besides, you have a girlfriend, Bruce. And while my relationship with Christie Whitlock is every bit as screwed-up as one with Catwoman would be I can't get involved with woman as Bruce Wayne and another as Batman. That would be positively insane!_

"Hands off," said Batman. "If you didn't want it," contended Catwoman ,"Why take so long to get to this?" There weren't really any answers Batman could come up with without risking his secret identity. Catwoman would probably not let Batman force her arm off the shoulder without a struggle and Batman doubted he could keep his resistance to Catwoman's charms up through the heat of a wrestling match. Leaving the arm where it was seemed like the least bad option.

Not a moment too soon, the Batmobile reached Browning Street. "There," Catwoman pointed at a very small building, keeping her left arm on Batman. "Yes," said Batman, stopping the Batmobile. "Looks like a generic gang's base of operations." They got out and moved towards the building. "I imagine you're planning on us attacking through the windows," said Catwoman. Batman nodded. "Don't. They're expecting that. I'm supposed to help them shoot you." The only surprise to Batman was hearing Catwoman admit this.

"Let's not attack them directly," suggested Catwoman. "After we beat the shit out of each other recently, we can't be anywhere near one hundred percent. We should get in the basement. It's got drugs and stolen property to take to the police." "How do I know that you're not still setting me up?" asked Batman. "Because I had the chance to do you and take all the credit for myself, dumbass," said Catwoman. "Unless that's the plan," theorized Batman. "You tell me your plan so I'll think everything's fine, then you ambush me anyway." "That makes no sense," said Catwoman. "It would've been easier to claw your throat out when I was on top of you or had my arm around you in your car." That pretty much killed Batman's thunder.

Catwoman led Batman around the place to a basement door. Batman activated the nightvision lenses in his mask, while Catwoman lowered her own over her eyes. If Batman were walking into a trap, it would spring any second.

Sure enough, the lights turned on. Batman and Catwoman quickly looked at each other. "I'm as surprised as you are," Catwoman whispered. "Honest," _Yeah, right!_ Down the other set of stairs leading up into the building came seven men, including one incredibly large man and the person well into midlife operating a dummy must have been that Scarface and The Ventriloquist character Catwoman had spoken of.

"I thought youse might getray me, pussycat," proclaimed Scarface. Then Catwoman really was telling the truth. It was just that She and Batman had been set up for the fall anyway. "I could tell ya was swoonin' over Gats and had no stomach for whackin' 'im. And where getter ta surprise me than the gasement. Sorry, I'm too smart for that. I may not ge Ivy League, gut I'm smarter than most Ivy League students. Goys, put these mad animals down."

Batman immediately dragged Catwoman bethind a nearby crate. Batman then put his armor-resistant cape in front against said crate. as Scarface and his goons fired their submachine guns. "That crate won't protect us," Catwoman whispered to be heard. "My cape and body armor will," Batman assured her. For awhile, anyway.

"Stop shootin'," Scarfaced ordered his men. "You can't stay there forever," Scarface now talked to Batman and Catwoman. "I can have food delivered. You can't. You'll starve. Come out. It'll ge quick and painless. "He's lying," Catwoman quietly informed Batman. Scarface may have been hard to take seriously, but he seemed more sadistic than possibly even The Joker!

"What's the plan?" whispered Catwoman. Good question. This was a very tight spot. Come out and get shot or wait and starve. They needed a third option "Working on it," Batman assured her. "Anyone can work," huffed Catwoman. "I've figured it all out. One of us disarms and attacks Rhino." "Who's Rhino?" asked Batman. "The big guy," clarified Catwoman. "He's so big that nose-to-nose, those inaccurate machine guns won't be able to shoot his attacker without hitting Rhino himself. But it'll draw their attention, making them ripe for a sneak attack!"

"If you're that close," criticized Batman, "You wouldn't last long against someone that big." "Correction," said Catwoman. " _You_ wouldn't last long. "You've got two layers of protection. Leather is good against fists and knives, not bullets. And I'm the stealthier one. You're the logical bait. Don't worry. Nobody ambushes like me." "But that gives you a chance to abandon me and flee to safety." "Are you saying you don't trust me?" demanded an angry Catwoman. Batman said nothing. "Good call," Catwoman smiled. "Better come up with something else."

That was just it. There was no way out other than distracting Scarface and his men. Only Catwoman's plan could really do that. Batman had a choice between certain death or putting his life in Catwoman's paws. Decisions, decisions. Batman grabbed three Batarangs, got onto the crate, jumped towards his enemies, threw the Batarangs at Rhino to disarm him, and gripped the inside of his cape to use it as protection long enough to get to Rhino. All these steps succeeded. Only problem was that Batman already regretted trusting Catwoman.

Batman punched his fists out three times at Rhino, hoping to stun him. Instead, Rhino returned with his own punch. Batman couldn't back away without becoming vulnerable to gunfire. "Why've ya stopped shootin'!" asked Scarface. One goon explained, "We'll hit Rhino!" "Push him away, ya moron," declared Scarface.

But Batman wasn't letting that happen. He punched some more, hoping to knock Rhino out and give Batman a bargaining chip even if Catwoman abandoned him. But another punch from Rhino dropped Batman to one knee. Rhino was every bit as strong as his 8' size indicated. If only Batman could afford to try hit-and-run tactics to take advantage of Rhino's immobility.

Batman was now being choked by Rhino. He tried to fight his way out, but the grip was hard to dislodge. Within seconds, Batman was gasping in a vain attempt to get air into his lungs. "Pressed bat, comin' right up," boasted Rhino. Batman vision began to turn red.

Suddenly, Rhino screamed in agony. He and Batman both fell to the ground. Rhino was clutching his left thigh, grunting, and panting. Batman looked around. He saw Catwoman holding a machine pistol. She walked over to Batman and smiled down at him. "Aren't you glad you talked to me in your car?" she asked. "If I'd kept refusing," asked Batman. "Then we wouldn't be having this conversation," said Catwoman, holding out her hand. Batman took it and was helped to his feet. He looked around to see that Catwoman had knocked The Ventriloquist and all his men out. Batman and Catwoman looked at each other for a few seconds.

"First things first," said Catwoman, pointing the gun, presumably taken from an unconscious goon, at a hurting and terrified Rhino's head. "Showing some respect, eh pig?" asked Catwoman with a smile. "Too little, too late!" But Batman slapped the gun out of her hands. "I won't let you kill him." "He tried to rape me," said Catwoman. "He's been part of murders. He deserves it." "It's not a deserve thing," said Batman. "It's a right and wrong thing. It's not right for people to die without a fair trial. To do otherwise feeds the societal evils that give rise to people like him. I've heard stories about people who were forced to kill. Their lives are never the same again. Do you want that?"

Catwoman seemed genuinely moved. She was now content to kick Rhino out. Facing Batman with her hands on her hips, she asked, "What now, handsome? Do we part ways, get it on, or... get it on." "Give yourself up," suggested Batman. "You gotta be kidding," laughed Catwoman. "You've done a great thing for society," Batman complimented her. "I'll put in a word for you. You'll get nine months at most. Rehabilitation will also train you to get a new career."

"Tempting," admitted Catwoman. "I'm afraid I've gotten too accustomed to disliking society. Maybe a few years ago..." Batman walked towards her. "Then I guess this is goodbye," he said, leaning in to kiss. Catwoman reacted in surprise for a moment before returning the kiss. She broke it when Batman slipped a Batcuff onto her left wrist. Catwoman tried to break away but Batman was very strong. He delivered a few punches to Catwoman's stomuch that had her falling to her knees. Batman dragged her up the stars leading into the building and snapped the empty Batcuff to the door, trapping Catwoman to it. "Why?" she asked. "Because I like you," said Batman. "I'm not waiting until it's too late for you to reform. I'll be right back."

Batman descended the stairs and woke The Ventriloquist up. "Do you have any partners in crime elsewhere," he asked fiercely. "Scarface does," said a frightened Ventriloquist. "Don't split hairs with me." "I'll tell the police," said Ventriloquist. "I swear!" "Call the police," ordered Batman. Ventriloquist did so. Batman took the phone. "There's a gang at the location that you've traced." "Understood," said the police operator.

Holding his breath and dropping a gas pellet to knock The Ventriloquist and his men out, Batman went back up the stairs. But Catwoman was gone. This must have been how Gordon felt. A note was pincered into the Batcuff Catwoman's wrist had squeezed out of. Batman read:

"Better luck next time, lover."

Batman crumpled the note. There _would_ be a next time.

 **Catwoman's perspective:**

Never cuff up one of the greatest burglars in the world. Catwoman had enough cleverness and mobility to to squirm out of the Batcuffs. She even had a enough to use the pencil and small notepad she kept on her person to leave Batman a little parting shot. Now he had to watch the bad guys until the police arrived. By then, Catwoman was long gone.

After changing into her Selina Kyle robe, Sabisia asked, "So... is he dead." "Maybe I should have my head examined," Selina admitted, "But he's alive. We took care of the real scumbags together. I'm free of them. It's over."

" _That's_ over," said Sabisia. "Yeah, I know what you mean," said Selina. "I had a chance to kill Batman tonight and a chance to let Scarface do it. Sho' might regret not taking either of them. Guess I'm a hopeless romantic."

"Why didn't you try seducing him?" asked Sabisia. "I did try," Selina corrected her.

"A 'guy' fearing of his own feelings?"

"Mm-hmm. For his part, Batman tried to make me into a churchlady. Couldn't do it."

"He'll chase again, you know,"

"I know. Letting him live may have been a mistake, but _what_ a mistake! How this loving war ends gives me chills and spills! Maybe he'll make me the woman he wants me to be. Maybe I'll corrupt him. Maybe it'll end badly for one of us. Only God knows."

"What happened to Scarface and his mob of killers?"

"That's the biggest surprise. Most other crimefighters would be keen on punishing them himself. Not Batman. One of those bastards tried to rape me but Batman still stopped me from doing him in. Not that he didn't make a good argument. Guess that boy's got an unshakable moral code. No wonder he resists me."

With that, Catwoman sighed with a smile.


	6. Gator Hunting

**Bruce's pespective:**

A meeting between executives of Wayne Enterprises had concluded. Company Vice President Lucius Fox looked unusually happy. Bruce walked over to him. "What are you so peppy about?" Bruce asked. Lucius looked around to see that all the other executives were well on their way to their offices. "Can you keep a secret?" asked Lucius. "If there's one thing I know how to do," assured Bruce, "It's that."

"Today is the day Tim and I go to a wrestling show," explained Lucius. "Guilty pleasure of ours." Bruce was surprised. "You do know it's phony, right?" he asked. "How original," said Lucius sarcastically. "Like I said, guilty pleasure." "Whatever works for you," said Bruce. "Have a good time."

Bruce was puzzled. Lucius was extremely intelligent. He had actually taught Bruce what he needed to know to manage Wayne Enterprises. In fact, as far as Bruce let on, Lucius was still running the company, not the nepotistic playboy who Bruce wanted them to believe the Chairman was. How could a gifted individual like Lucius enjoy a fraudulent sport like pro wrestling?

Then again, there were folks who thought that what Bruce did at night wasn't normal either. To each his own.

 **Christie's perspective:**

The Batman's fatal mistake of cluing Christie Whitlock in on Batman being someone Christie knew didn't seem so fatal anymore. Christie had spent weeks researching and all she had accomplished was rule everybody she knew out as The Dark Blight. Back to square one. Had to try to find and unmask him again.

Unless...

There was one man Christie hadn't considered. Bruce? Could it be Bruce? Crazy idea. Although Batman _did_ have a really, really expensive car among other things that not a lot of people could afford. Bruce could. If bank deposits weren't federally insured, Bruce would have Uncle Scrooge's giant swimming pool of cash.

And he was a fairly large man. Not football player large but certainly well over two hundred pounds. And how could Christie forget that Bruce had seen his parents gunned down as a child? That would drive anyone crazy!

But no. Bruce was afraid of heights, wasn't he? No one with that fear could possibly swing around on a grappling hook like he did.

Like Christie had originally thought, crazy idea. So why couldn't she drop it?

 **Lucius' perspective:**

Lucius and his son, Tim, had a good time cheering the good guys of wrestling and booing the bad guys. They were hoping the worst of them all, world champion Killer Croc was about to get his at the hands of Johnny Ramm.

"From Tampa, Florida," began the ring announcer. "Weighing three hundred twenty-three pounds, Killer Croc!" The crowd booed, Lucius and Tim included. Croc's signature music played. But no one emerged from the wrestler's entrance.

 _Odd. Why is he taking so long? Conversing with his friends to ambush Johnny? He'd better stay away from the ropes once the bell rings._

"From Tampa, Florida," the announcer started again. "Weighing three hundred twenty- three pounds, Killer Croc!" Four minutes passed. Croc still hadn't shown his face. What was taking so long? Could this delay not be part of the show? It wasn't unheard of for behind the scenes squabbles to lead to complications... or worse.

A bit longer, Johnny Ramm's music played. He came down the entrance ramp and entered the ring with a referee. "There's already a reperee, dad," Tim pointed out. "Referee, son," corrected Lucius. Being a great businessman, Lucius had been smart enough to notice the signals that referees gave wrestlers to tell them that it was time for a predetermined twist in a match to happen without the fans realizing it. This time, the signal was for the announcer, who the second referee walked over to and whispered into the ear of.

"Ladies and gentleman," the announcer said grimly. "What I am about to say is not part of your regularly scheduled entertainment." That confirmed it. This was real. "The owner of this company, Vick Malone, has passed away. We have an eyewitness account that Killer Croc is responsible. I can confirm that he has left the building. We have called the police to investigate. Please be careful on your way back to your homes. Be safe. We apologize for any inconvenience."

"Come on, Tim," said Lucius. "We're going." Tim nodded in agreement. Apparently, Croc's monster act was less of an act than he would have had anyone else believe.

The next morning, Lucius arrived at Wayne Enterprises and decided to share his experience with Bruce. "You won't believe what happened last night, Bruce," said Lucius. "The good guy won?" asked an uninterested Bruce. "Yes," said Lucius. "But the bad guy committed murder. Don't look at me like I'm a sucker. It's in the papers." Suddenly, Bruce was surprised. "This is terrible," he said. "I know," agree Lucius. "I'm sure glad we don't have to deal with that wrestler-killer, aren't you?"

 **Bruce's perspective:**

Bruce Wayne had wished he could have told his chauffeur to hit the gas on the way to the manor. Batman sure would have but not Bruce. Bruce's concerns were business and charities, not crime.

Bruce eventually arrived and took the stairs beneath the fake bookcase to the Batcave. He then got on the Batcomputer. "After another bizarre character?" Alfred eventually asked. "You don't know how bizarre," responded Bruce. "A fake wrestling show went haywire last night. The wrestler in question was Waylon Jones, better known as Killer Croc. He was born with advanced atavism that made him look like a human reptile with sharp teeth. Wasn't well-liked by the other children. Didn't matter. He was gifted with great size and strength."

"He was a bully," figured Alfred. "Too much of a bully," said Batman. "When he was was seven years old, a 9th grader named Tom Rosen tried to pick on him. He ended up dead. Young Jones was sent to juvenile hall. A decade later, small-time wrestling promoters discovered him and in an 'amazing' coincidence, the teachers ruled him fit to be among normal children shortly afterwards."

"Some would say I'm in no position to judge," said Alfred. Bruce decided he wouldn't even touch what Alfred had implied about his chosen path in life and Alfred's decision to allow it. After all, The Batman existed only because he _had to_.

"After several years of working his way up through the wrestling ranks," continued Bruce, "Jones became the Global Wrestling Federation Champion. But now he's killed the owner of that company."

"Sorry to point out the flaw in your story," said Alfred. "No, you aren't," corrected Bruce. "You love to criticize. "True," chuckled Alfred. "But why would Jones kill his employer when he had it made?" "This man has a bad attitude," explained Bruce. "It seems his bosses wanted him to lose his title. He refused. There was arguing. Eventually, Jones lost his temper and bit Chairman Malone in the throat with his sharp teeth. He didn't make it."

"If only all business deals were that easy," joked Alfred. Bruce swiveled around in his chair, frowning. "Sorry, Master Bruce," apologized Alfred. "That was tasteless, wasn't it?" Bruce nodded.

 **Batman's perspective:**

Although Batman foiled a few crimes that night, he hadn't been able to find any sign of Croc. In fact, it felt as though the china shop bull had vanished from the face of the Earth! On the second night, Batman eventually saw a large man in a hooded sweater and with a bag in his hand running on the ground. Jones? Hard to tell at night. He pursued and ambushed this person with a flying kick that knocked him down.

"You have a debt to pay to society, Jones," declared Batman, who now saw clearly who it was that he had kicked. "I'm not Jones," said Batman's opponent, taking off his coat and tossing it aside. "He died twenty years ago. You can call me Killer Croc." "Fair enough, Croc," Batman said, not caring what scum preferred to be called. "Since you're a wanted man, I'm guessing that's getaway supplies or stolen property." "I need the money, Bats," said Croc. "I can't get my money out of the bank without gettin' arrested." "You should've thought of that before you regressed to a five-year-old," chastized Batman. Croc's answer to that was a running shoulder bash. Batman did not react in time and had to roll sideways several times on the ground to reduce the impact enough to prevent injury.

Batman immediately realized that though Croc's condition couldn't have made getting a date on Friday night easy, it had left him one of the strongest men in the world! Batman might be in trouble...

Batman decided that his best plan was to pretend to be beaten. He heard Croc approaching. _That's right, beast._ Batman sprung to his feet and delivered two body blows and an uppercut. Croc was barely fazed. He fought back with a right cross, decking Batman. "You might be able to handle human thieves," said Croc, putting Batman in a side head lock. "But I'm anything but human." This was a tight hold. Batman felt like his jaw and cranium were about to shatter any second! Instead, Croc flung Batman towards a nearby building. Batman grunted upon collision and was panting upon hitting the sidewalk.

"Can't you recover from that?" asked Croc? "Wait. Forgot you're the one who don't got no powers. Sorry." He was right. He may not have had anything on the alien in Metropolis or the Amazon in Washington, but Batman certainly felt out of his league. He had to change his strategy quickly.

Batman concealed his Batbola inside his cape. No room to build momentum with it. Had to throw perfectly. He did exactly that. The Batbola twisted numerous times around Croc. Batman slowly got up. and cracked his knuckles. "Give it up, Croc," he said. "Nobody's very strong or fast when immobilized. Brains before brawn." "Oh, yeah?" asked Croc, straining every arm and chest muscle. To Batman's horror, the ropes broke And Croc ran forward to deliver another right cross. Only by backing up to a wall could Batman stay on his feet.

As Croc drew near again, Batman punched outward, only for the the fist to be caught in Croc's right hand. Croc bit the outstretched forearm and Batman groaned as sharp teeth pierced the protective kevlar. Croc was literally sinking his teeth into Batman. Finally, Croc let go and headbutted Batman down again.

A barely conscious Batman let out an "uh..." sound as he saw Croc lifting his right foot over his head. "Scary nightmares," wished Croc as he stomped with his high foot.

Sure enough, the lights went out.

 **Christie's perspective:**

Christie knew Batman would be after that so-called crocodile man. If Christie hadn't seen him, she wouldn't have believed it. A green man with scales instead of skin and he'd given Batman a well-deserved beating. "See this?" Croc laughed at Christie and other onlookers. "This is what happens to anybody who messes with me." With that, he picked up his bag and fled.

"He never had a chance!" exclaimed a woman. "Guess superpowers do exist," realized a man. Christie walked over to the unconscious Batman. Half these people seemed to naively believe The Dark Blight to be a hero and many others didn't care. "I'm taking him to the hospital," Christie said out loud. "Faster than calling 911." "Want me to help?" asked a man. "That's OK," Christie quickly said, lifting Batman's arm over her shoulder and dragging him to the backseat of her car to be pushed in.

Christie began driving away from the crowd, keeping an eye on Batman through the rear view mirror. Soon enough, Batman began stirring. "I told you I'd get you, Dark Blight," recalled Christie. "Even if it was with the help of that thing." Batman reached for the left passenger's door handle. Christie looked back so she could spray Batman with mace. Focusing again on driving, she said, "Hard way? Fine. The important thing is that the mask's coming off."

"I have to stop that monster," Batman tried. No sale. "From what I saw," said Christie. "Nobody in Gotham can do it. Somebody call Superman." "He doesn't let you know who he is either," Batman complained. "Maybe not," allowed Christie. "But he does seem clean and isn't rough or sneaky. No comparison." Then she saw a thrown pellet smash itself against the windshield in front of her. Gas came out, and Christie coughed for seconds until unconsciousness beckoned.

Christie awakened to find that her car was parked. She looked into the backseat of the car. Sure enough, Batman was gone. Christie snapped her fingers. How? How did Batman always get away from her? Somehow, some way, The Dark Blight always had a wild card in his hand.

Or did he? Christie had finally gotten a look at the face. It alone wasn't enough except... there was something familiar about it. A face that she felt that she knew not for a long time but very well, just the same.

Whipping out her phone, Christie took a look at the picture she'd had taken of herself and and Bruce a month before. Christie really hoped she was wrong, but unfortunately, the chin, mouth, and cheeks of Bruce looked just like those of Batman.

Suddenly, the crazy idea Christie had the other day didn't seem so crazy anymore.

 **Bruce's perspective:**

Bruce's bitten hand was bandaged and he was lying down and being massaged by Alfred in the Batcave. Not for relaxation but to get his muscles in working order. "How was he able to do this to you?" Alfred asked. "There are - ah," Bruce was interrupted by pain. "Not so hard, Alfred." Alfred eased up. "As I was saying," Bruce began again, "There are a few people who have physical characteristics greater than human potential. They are metahumans."

"So Croc has enhanced strength?" asked Alfred. "yes," affirmed Bruce. "Batman may be out of his league, Master Bruce," warned Alfred. "Maybe," Bruce realized. "But they do come smarter than Croc. In any event, I can't give up when the going gets tough. Gotham needs me."

Croc seemed to be hard to find but Bruce had one long-shot idea. He placed his right-handed Batman glove under a forensic microscope. If he hadn't seen it, he wouldn't have believed it. The knuckles of the glove had traces of sewage. Unless this was from one of the human criminals Batman had taken down that night, Croc lived in the sewer, where no one had thought to look. This would be the second criminal in a short while who Batman had found in the sewer so maybe he should be quicker to look there from now on.

 **Batman's perspective:**

Batman was driving the Batboat for only the third time in his career. The first time was when foiling a mass breakout in his first year. The second was when The Riddler committed a robbery from the sewer. Now Batman was using it to catch an human crocodile.

Batman saw a lit-up tunnel. Had to be where Croc was staying. Batman got out of the Batboat and hopped onto the walkway on the side to hear the sounds of a TV set. Talk about not very bright. If anyone had thought to look in the sewer, Croc would've been nailed by the SWAT team by now.

But no sooner had Batman thought that when he was knocked over by a powerful stream of water. Croc had to be operating one of the water hoses sanitation workers used to clean the sewer. As Batman got up again, he saw Croc drop down a distance in front of him. Though no intellectual, Croc seemed to at least have a crafty instinct.

A bull charge had Batman back on the ground. Locking him into a head lock, Croc gloated, "Beat ya in yer home. What made ya think I wouldn't be ready for ya in mine?" Croc dragged Batman into the water. If he had the sharp teeth, hard scales, and great strength of an crocodile, why not the ability to last underwater for hours? Great...

The grip on Batman's skull was tight. Getting out of the headlock would take too long. Lack of air would leave him too weak by then. Instead, he took the grappling hook out of his Batgrapple wrapped it around Croc's waist a few times. Redepositing the hook into the Batgrapple, Batman fired it to pull Croc off him. Batman could now swim back onto the walkway.

Ordinarily, Batman would have only bought himself a brief respite, but he shortened it by retracting the hook into the Batgrapple, pulling Croc out of the water with it. Batman was knocked down by a punch and Croc threatened, "Shoulda ran while ya had the chance, Bats!" "That's my line," said Batman taking aim at the Batboat and firing. The hook and rope pulled Croc into the Batboat, causing Croc to yell in pain as he hit the hull of the Batboat.

 _Not indestructible, are you?_

Batman retracted and fired both the hook and Croc into the Batboat three more times before Croc seemed to have finally broken the rope. A shaken-up Croc came back onto the walkway. A growl from Croc escalated into a roar and he charged and punched at Batman. Batman sidestepped away from the blow with his left leg and tripped Croc over with the right leg. Batman threaded his hands together so he use both arms to increase the power of an elbow strike to Croc's neck.

Backing up, Batman was amazed when Croc still got up. A flying kick put him down again. This time Croc didn't get up. He was out like a light. Just in case, Batman hit Croc with a gas pellet. He'd never get up from that. It was over.

 **Bruce's perspective:**

A few nights later, Bruce and Christie were eating together at Club Samurai again. They were halfway through the meal and small talk when Christie asked, "You wouldn't be hiding anything from me, would you?" "Of course not," Bruce assured her. "Why do you ask?" "No reason," said Christie.


	7. It's Good to be in Gotham, Hooray!

**The Hog's perspective:**

Becky "The Hog" Traylor was working out with the exercise machine in her office. She was one of the top people in her father, Reggie Traylor's business, now just a year into its relocation to Gotham City from Charleston (even if the Traylors commuted from their country homes in both cases), South Carolina. Alas, Reggie seemed to prefer a man to succeed him. The Hog's only chance lay in her being a much better businessperson than her brother, Al. Alas, even that chance wasn't much of a chance.

As a lifelong college football fan like so many Southerners, she had done more muscle-building training than the average woman, although she ate heavily. The result was tremendous musculature at the expense of her womanly figure. Some rivals of the family business had taken shots at this five-foot-eight, two hundred fifty-three pound woman's size. But many of them had learned the hard way that what The Hog lacked in artistic athleticism she more than made up for in pure athleticism. After all, pigs may not be pretty, but many were very dangerous.

Upon finishing her workout, The Hog walked out of her office. Four men moved in on both sides. The Hog right crossed to knock one man to her right down. She then caught the swinging fist of another rightward attacker in her hands and threw him down over the shoulder. A haymaker to one of the two remaining opponents and a reverse elbow to the other had them all on the ground.

"Pitiful," ridiculed The Hog. "You ain't beatin' The Batman if you don't learn to fight better than that. And we're gonna have to deal with him." She chuckled as she quoted a classic movie: "Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday."

Al got up. "Why don't you go after him yourself, sis?" he suggested. The Hog thought about it. "Ah would but Ah need more practice to take him myself," she guessed. "Ah don't think anybody in this city can handle you," assured Al. "You're tougher than a bad mare!" "Thanks," The Hog said with a blush. "But Batman is somethin' else. Ah'll train more. Don't interrupt till lunch."

 **Batman's perspective:**

Batman was on his six nights a week patrol. He noticed a man in a plaid shirt and baseball cap walking into what looked to be a small predominantly black business called Smokey's Goods. It was not the owner of this establishment that was paid. Instead, it was the customer who received a check. Very suspicious.

Just before the newly paid man would have entered his car, Batman seized, turned him around, and pushed him against the car. "I ain't done nothin' to deserve this," complained the man. It was a Southern accent. But not quite the same as the accents Bruce Wayne had heard on business trips to Texas and Florida. "Why did that man pay you?" demanded Batman. "I ain't gotta tell you a thing," said the man. "Yes, you do," said Batman, punching him across the face. "I'd rather take my chances with you than betray the family." Batman gave him a threatening look.

"I'm meetin' baby Jesus one day anyway. Might as well do it feelin' good about myself."

Batman walked away. He heard the car start up. Batman turned around, hoping the country thug would be stupid enough to try to run Batman over and get himself booked. He didn't. He drove away and Batman fired his Bat Tracer Gun at the trunk. Whoever this man was working for, Batman would know soon enough.

Batman took the long way around. Better to let this person get to his destination before... what the Hell? The signal was gone.

The Bat Tracer must have been smashed. Wouldn't be as easy as Batman had hoped.

 **The Hog's perspective:**

The Hog had gotten a text on her phone. It was her father. "In my office. Important," said the text. The Hog entered the office. Her old man showed her a picture on a phone. "Another spy," said Reggie. There had been four spies before this one from other crime families seeking to learn more about the Traylors, all of whom had been found and killed. "Ah think Ah'm tired of killin' every one of these pissants. Time to deal with their bosses once and for all, Becky." The Hog smiled. _Time to have some fun._

But before The Hog had left, Reggie said, "Before Ah forget, Al ran into none other than The Batman. He tried to put a tracer on Al's car, but Al smashed it. Thought you'd want to know." The Hog did want to know. But time enough to deal with Batman later.

The Hog noticed her current target in the restaurant owned by the Traylor family known as Country Buffet. The Hog waited for the spy to finish and walk out. The Hog followed him outside. As The Hog drew near, the spy seemed to sense her and quickly turned around, drawing a pistol. The Hog slapped the gun away and wrapped her arms around her opponent, locked her fingers together, pushed her large gut and breasts against him, and pulled her arms back. The man panted loudly in pain as he felt sharp pressure on ribs and tummy. The Hog was a mistress of this move that she called The Hug.

"Ah'm sorry," The Hog said sarcastically. "Am I hurtin' you? If you're a big enough man to call for help against a fat girl, don't bother. Just another possessive Northeastern lady with a boyfriend who's got cold feet. Nobody cares. Papa wants to talk to you about settlin' things with your boss. Choose now. I can hear your ribs bendin'." "OK," wheezed the spy. The Hog let him drop to the ground. "Want help to Papa's office?" asked The Hog, seeing that the spy was in pain. "That's OK," the spy panted quickly. "I insist," said The Hog, draping his arm over her neck and walking him through the rear entrance, up the stairs, and into Reggie's office.

"Good job," complimented Reggie. "Thanks," said The Hog. "Ah want to make a deal with your bosses," said Reggie to the spy. "Ah'm tired of this cycle. Your bosses probably don't want me to be a wild card, nor does anybody want a war. Surely, somethin' can be worked out, right?" "Probably," agreed the spy.

 **Batman's perspective:**

Batman knocked on Commissioner Gordon's window. He opened it. "How can I help you?" asked Gordon. "You know those mobs that we can't begin to find?" Batman reminded him. "I think I've almost discovered one of them." "Russian, Italian, Irish, black, Japanese, Chinese, Mexican, or Puerto Rican?" asked Gordon. "Southern," said Batman.

This caught Gordon off-guard. "Southern?" he asked. "Don't think that's ever happened before." "I heard the man's accent," Batman promised. "It's Southern." "Don't get me wrong," Gordon made clear. "If you say it's Southern, I'll bet the house it is. It's just unusual."

"You wouldn't be able to narrow it down then, would you?" asked Batman. "Sorry," Gordon apologized. "A big city like Gotham gets plenty of tourists. And there's a lot of South they could have come from."

"How much do you know about the South?" asked Batman. "Sitcoms and family trips to Disney World," said Gordon. "I don't suppose that's much help?" Instead of responding, Batman used his cape to parachute down. Gordon didn't have the answer. For now, Bruce Wayne might be better suited to finding this family than Batman, since Wayne Enterprises had stores all over the country.

 **Bruce Wayne's perspective:**

At various intervals during his next workday, Bruce had called his store managers from all over the South. Finally, he called Jimmy Samson from South Carolina. "My, that's a great voice," said Samson over the phone. "Goes with your handsome face. No wonder you're in a serious relationship." Bruce had to put up with having his butt kissed on every one of these calls. "Thank you," he said.

"The police think there's a Southern mob here in Gotham City," Bruce continued. "Because helping is good PR, I've agreed to ask my Southern employees about this." It was important to keep up appearances as the billionaire playboy who knew nothing but charming women and the media. No one could suspect the truth about him. Even Batman had to sleep.

"Can't say I know anything about that," said Samson. "Thanks anyway," said Bruce. "Wait," Samson reacted to Bruce's disappointment. "There might be somethin'." "What?" asked Bruce.

"Ain't a what," said Samson. "A who. Many whos. The Traylor family lived just outside of Charleston. They ran a little gun shop. But there were rumors that they were sellin' illegal guns elsewhere. But nothin' was proven. I think they moved up north a year ago."

Bruce, or more accurately, Batman, had learned that proven and what is are two very different things. "Thank you, Mr. Samson," said Bruce. "You've really helped me out." "You're known for your appreciation, Mr. Wayne," said Samson. Subtle. "If this pans out," promised Bruce. "you'll get a raise. Goodbye."

No more insincere flattery from distant employees. Next came the easy part. He hit the Internet to look up families named Traylor in the state Gotham City was in. There were a few, but only one that had been in South Carolina a year before.

 _We have a winner._

 **Reggie's perspective:**

Reggie had called a meeting. The attendants included all the top dogs in the company: himself, The Hog, Al, communications expert Daisy Thompson, (niece of Reggie), Joey Traylor (Al's son), and Yuji Takahan (no relation but a friend, accountant, and lawyer of the family).

Reggie took off his cowboy hat and placed it on the table like he always did at these meetings. "Business updates?" he obligatorily asked.

"Revenues are up 0.3% since the week before," explained Yuji. "Cops ain't got a clue about us," assured Daisy. "I ran into The Batman," said Al. "I always thought there was somethin' to those Bigfoot sightin's. Only more sure now. Anyway, he didn't find out about us. Just thinks one guy got a payment from Smokey that he can't prove. It's all good."

"I'll tell you what's really good," Reggie started to get to the good stuff. "I've got a meetin' with the other families. Looks like we're gonna join their exclusive club." Everybody cheered.

"And we've got my daughter, Becky, in part to thank," Reggie motioned to her. Al, Daisy, Yuji, and Joey cheered again, this time looking at The Hog. "I'm proud of you, little sister," complimented Al. "Wasn't nothin'," said The Hog. "Just to make sure we close the deal," cautioned Reggie, "Al, I want you to pull a job. Get a few of the boys to help." "Sure, Dad," said Al, leaving the room. "Meeting adjourned," concluded Al.

 **Batman's perspective:**

Before he went out, Batman had further researched the Traylors and believed he recognized at least three of them. The old man, Reggie, was the patriarch. Al was the son of this man. Batman recognized him as the man who he had seen getting a suspicious payment. Then there was the daughter, a large woman who might be a challenging opponent if not for a crippling weight problem. No doubt about it. Batman was in the right place. For he had seen all three of those people peeping through a window at the meeting they held.

Soon enough, Al and three others were leaving Country Buffet and getting in a car. _A little early in the evening to be going home_. Batman got in his own Batmobile and followed from a distance away.

Sure enough, Batman saw that Al and his goons had stopped just outside Farwell's Antiques. Instead of the Batgrapple, Batman used his quieter Batrope with a Batarang attached to the end of it to climb onto the roof above unseen.

Despite their bad English, this was an intelligent family. Masks, silent tools, non-fingerprinting gloves. Not that any of that would do them much good. As they came out with bags of ill-gotten booty, Batman hopped off the roof, landing feet-first on two of the men to knock them out.

Batman delivered a jab-jab-cross combo to another thug to knock him out. Only Al remained. He must not have brought a gun so it couldn't add to his sentence if caught because he ran at Batman. Batman blocked a punch, kneed Al in the side, and headbutted him down.

As Batman seized him by the shirt, Al said, "Ah give up. This'll only last a few days." "Don't count on it," contended Batman. "Your whole family's going down tonight!" Al smiled. "You ain't got no idea what you're about to get yourself into," he warned. "What surprise does your father have for me?" asked Batman. "If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it," laughed Al.

 **The Hog's perspective:**

The Hog had recognized another suspicious character walking out of Country Buffet, presumably to update his superiors over the phone. Before he got the chance, he was put in The Hug from behind. "Why are you spyin' on us?" asked The Hog. The man said nothing. He only tried to reach for his pocket, but his arms were immobilized. Since he wouldn't talk, The Hog maxed out the pressure. Six seconds into the full force of The Hug, the spine of the spy had broken!

The Hog checked the man's wallet. A badge. Must have been an undercover cop. Burying the body deep into the dumpster in the parking lot of Country Buffet, The Hog checked her phone. Al should have returned by now. "Brother arrested," read a text from Reggie. If the cops knew about the job Al was pulling, they wouldn't bother scouting Country Buffet. This had to be the work of Batman. He _did_ suspect Al.

But if The Dark Knight had known Ahead of time what Al was doing, he had to suspect the family business. The Hog's father had to be next.

 _Gotta get to him fast!_

 **Batman's perspective:**

Upon extracting a segment of a high window, Batman wandered the halls of the second floor until he found a door labeled, "R. Traylor." Probably the place. He opened the door to find Reggie Traylor on the phone for a second before he noticed Batman and gasped. "Can Ah call you back?" Reggie asked. "Thank you." The frightened old man in a weird combination of suit and cowboy hat looked at Batman, gulped, and asked, "How can Ah help you, Mr. Batman." "Formalities will get you nowhere," said Batman.

"Surely there's a deal to be made, my masked friend," attempted Reggie. Batman walked around the desk to lift Reggie by the tie to a standing position. "I want this criminal business of yours gone," said Batman. "No more, no less. By the way, there were no cowboys in the South, with the exception of Texas." It was just then that the corner of Batman's eye saw the reflection of Becky, Reggie's daughter, aiming a silenced pistol at The Dark Knight in the window behind Reggie's desk.

Just before Batman's head would have been gored, he dived behind the desk, dragging Reggie down with him. Batman held Reggie in front as he stood back up. "Big man, hidin' behind an old guy," Becky said sarcastically. "As opposed to shooting from behind?" asked Batman.

This standoff lasted two minutes and change. Batman saw that Becky was trained enough to not be as easily disarmed as the average criminal while Becky seemed aware you had to needed a good and discriminant shot to pierce Batman's armor. Finally, Becky broke the silence, "Batman, ain't you?" Batman nodded. "Papa there calls me Becky. You can call me The Hog. Ah got the perfect solution. Ah got the gun, you got the hostage. Ah know as much as Papa so if Ah throw my gun out the window and agree to take his place, will you let him go?"

"I'm not a sucker," said Batman. "He'd get some more men in here." "We Traylors may not hold true to _every S_ outhern value," The Hog admitted, "But we are true to our word." Batman's research _had_ revealed that the Traylors seemed to have a twisted code of honor. "Promise to leave him alone for the rest of the night, Papa," The Hog told her father.

"No," protested Reggie. "Ah'm old. I've lived my life." "Please," said The Hog. "Ah want this. Do it for me." Reggie seemed touched. "I promise," he vowed. The Hog walked over to the window, opened it, and reached out with her gun hand. "Before Ah drop it, release him. We do it on three. 1... 2... 3!" Batman did so and Reggie walked out of the office and shut the door behind him. At the same time, The Hog dropped her gun out the window. All leverage was gone.

"I have questions," said Batman. "Not so fast," cautioned The Hog. "Ah said Ah'd take his place. But I assume he was gonna struggle." "Word games," realized Batman. "Always a catch." "You can beat it outta me," challenged The Hog. "You're being foolhardy," warned Batman. "Ah love beatin' on guys who think Ah can't hold my own," grinned The Hog. "Oh, no," Batman assured her. "I know from experience that you should never underestimate the fairer sex. But you're out of shape. You might be able to bully most men with sheer size, but not The Batman."

"Damn eggs, bacon, an' grits," conceded The Hog. "Why've you gotta to be so good? Well, there's more in here than fat." She tapped her gut to illustrate. "You really want to do this?" asked Batman. The Hog nodded.

Both combatants assumed fighting stances. The Hog seemed to know at least something about fighting. Best to not take her lightly. Since she couldn't be very fast, Batman started off with his jab-jab-cross combo. It had never failed to deck an opponent, yet The Hog wasn't even budged. She came back with a straight right to the chin. Batman stumbled back a few feet and fell into a sitting position.

"Don't you know that some pigs are dangerous?" chastised The Hog as she advanced. Instead of getting up, Batman shifted to his side and kicked at The Hog's gut. Although she barely even noticed the kick, Batman felt a sting in his right knee and clutched it. _She's not bluffing._ _That most definitely wasn't fat I just kicked._

The Hog seized Batman by the right ankle and twisted. The pain in his knee intensified. Drawing a Batarang for use in hand-to-hand combat may not have been most people's idea of fighting fair, especially against a woman, but The Hog was no ordinary woman... or Navy SEAL. Batman didn't really play fair, anyway. His one rule was to not kill. He struck The Hog's left knee with the Batarang so Batman could get his leg free and log roll away a few times. He stood up, weight on his good knee, and threw the Batarang at The Hog's face, only for her to easily deflect it.

Batman started bending and straightening his right knee. He needed two good legs to stand a chance against someone this hardy and powerful. How was The Hog so hardy and powerful, anyway? She weighed about two fifty, two seventy, at most. That wasn't this much muscle.

The Hog advanced again. Batman needed to give his knee time to recover. Batman punched straight Ahead. His fist was caught in The Hog's hand. She right crossed Batman down. Not very fast but excellent reflexes. Another setback.

The Hog choked Batman with both hands for few a seconds, then slammed his head against the wooden floor by the ear protrusions. The mask was made of rubber and not kevlar, so it didn't help much here. "Sorry to bruise your male ego," explained The Hog, "But Ah ain't superhuman. Doc says the difference between a man's strength and a woman's ain't as great as size says it should be. Most girls ain't big enough for that to matter, but I sure as Hell am! But Ah don't really know science. That make sense?" The mystery had been solved. "Yes," said Batman.

"Pleasant dreams," wished The Hog, winding up. Batman moved his right leg around to snap his foot three times into The Hog's chin, then rolled away again. Batman hadn't hurt his knee doing that. Listening to The Hog ramble on had given his knee enough time to recuperate. Needed to take the opportunity to gain the initiative. He threw his Batbola at The Hog. She was caught in it. Finally, a step in the right direction. Batman delivered a side elbow to The Hog's nose, driving her back. Next, Batman spun around to hit her with two haymakers and a backhand. The Hog was backed against Reggie's desk but still on her feet. _What does it take to knock you down?_ Batman needed a big move. He backed up, then ran forward to deliver a flying kick.

This would have gotten the job done, but The Hog lifted her left foot up to block Batman's right foot at the last instant! Batman felt that pain in his knee again. _Not now._ By the time he had gotten back up, The Hog had gotten the Batbola off and picked up Reggie's desk. She swung and knocked Batman away. "Home run," quipped The Hog. Batman slowly stood to defend himself against an again unarmed Hog. "That bola was dirty," she said, "But what do you expect from a Yankee?" Batman's three punches were blocked and he was batted down again. The Hog lifted him back up and reached between his back and cape to put him in a bear hug. "Ah gotcha right where a lotta women want you," boasted The Hog.

Excruciating pain flowed through Batman's stomach and chest. Like a walnut in a nutcracker. Instinctively, he brought his good knee up between The Hog's legs. "Was that supposed to hurt?" she laughed. Batman tried to escape the hold but it was like manacles. "Don't," said The Hog. "Ah ain't let nobody outta this in almost twenty years. Once you're in, Ah win. Surrender before it hurts a lot more. Ah'm a gracious winner."

"Are you?" asked a skeptical Batman. "You'd be surprised, little bear," said The Hog, licking his left cheek. Batman reared his head back and headbutted her. "North or South, men are so stubborn," said The Hog. "Ah mean, I tried to tell my late husband meth was bad, but..." Batman cut her off with another headbutt. "I don't give a..." Now _Batman_ was cut off by a rib breaking from the pressure The Hog was literally putting on him. He howled in pain and shut his eyes as it felt like his abdomen was on fire!

"Ah warned you," The Hog reminded him. "Give up." Instead, Batman delivered a third headbutt. This shook up The Hog, forcing her to take three steps back. A fourth. The Hog nearly fell. Another headbutt should...

Suddenly, another of Batman's ribs broke. This time he couldn't even muster a howl in pain. Batman refused to believe what that meant and headbutted again, only for The Hog to not flinch. Batman had lost all of his hitting power. As he realized that, a third rib broke.

"You fought hard," acknowledged The Hog. "But there's gotta be a winner and a loser." Batman had always known this moment would come. It had. The odds of him never perishing despite decades of numerous mortal combats a week were impossible. "Do it," he suggested. "If you insist," said the Hog, lowering her arms to waist level, away from the ribs, and putting the pressure back on. Numbness to the pain and lack of air finally set in; Batman lost consciousness.

Batman woke up lying on a couch. He looked around to see that it looked like he was in a rural area. There were Confederate and U.S. flags over the fireplace, along with a mantle that had figurines of notable men and women of the American Revolution and Civil War. "So Heaven looks like an old school Southern home," realized Batman.

"What's wrong with that?" Batman heard a familiar voice ask. Batman looked in the direction of the voice. It was The Hog. "I'm not dead, am I?" asked Batman. The Hog shook her head. "Ah think you're too handsome to die," she smiled. "Bad enough you made me screw up that body of yours. But who said anything about dying?" Batman tried to get up but fell out of his couch.

"Poor thing," pitied The Hog. "Let me help." "No," said Batman, trying in vain to stand. He was scooped into a lover's carry. Had this woman's implied interest in him been more than banter? Because that Batman could do without. As she carried Batman to the dining table, The Hog explained, "Ah see you got side effects from the painkillers. That's why you're not in pain." Batman wasn't fooled. "You meant for me to be helpless," he said. "That too," conceded The Hog.

Batman was placed in a chair and saw that The Hog had prepared a dinner of steak, broccoli, and potatoes. "Ah know it might be hard to eat in your condition," acknowledged The Hog. "Ah don't mind helpin'." With that, she picked up Batman's fork. "What if I weren't hungry," asked Batman. "Then it's the tin cup," said The Hog. "It's only food." In his embarrassment, Batman allowed The Hog to take turns shoveling food into her and Batman's mouths.

 _This is so degrading! Probably meant to break my spirit. It's a start..._

After they were finished, The Hog carried Batman right back to the couch. He finally felt as though he understood the shock and panic he'd seen in women who he had saved from sexual assault. Batman was lying down. "This where you keep your weapons?" asked The Hog, pointing to his belt. "Yes," confirmed Batman. The Hog reached for it, not realizing that you got electrocuted if you tried to take the belt off without the key in the belt. Batman was getting the last laugh after all.

"Wait," hesitated The Hog. "What if you've got a trap there?" "I'm stubborn, remember?" denied Batman. "I don't think that far ahead." "Ah ain't takin' no chances," said The Hog, ripping the belt in between the second and third pouches from the right of the buckle and sticking the newly severed belt under the couch.

The Hog sat down on the couch, placing Batman's head in her lap. She began gently stroking Batman's throat. He had to admit that felt good. The Hog may not have been the most attractive woman in the world, but she was really good with her hands!

Wait! What was Batman thinking? This woman was a gangster. She probably wasn't feeling anything but lust for him. At least Catwoman seemed to have a heart. "Here's how our relationship's gonna work," began The Hog. "It's not happening," Batman made clear. "As much as fat women need love too, I don't date scum."

The Hog was mad. "You have to kill me," said Batman. The Hog seized Batman by the crown of the head and chin to break his neck. "Ah got a better idea. If Ah knew who you were, you'd have to be with me to keep it a secret, wouldn't you?" It felt like the world was standing still. "I'll take that as a yes," smiled The Hog, gripping his mask.

Batman immediately rolled off the couch but fell to the ground. The Hog sat on his back and reached for the mask again. "Why resist?" she asked. "Ah can see that you're miserable deep down. Whatever Ah'll do to you, Ah'll make you happy." Trying to remember his "mind and body" training from his time as a teenager in Japan, Batman tried to concentrate. He felt less woozy. Still had the problem of having to carry two hundred fifty plus pounds of weight. He got on his feet and lifted up The Hog's legs. Batman was literally carrying The Hog on his back. He also tucked his head in so that even if The Hog pulled his mask up, she wouldn't see Batman's face.

Turning their backs to the coffee table. Batman jumped up and fell backwards. The Hog yelped as she crashed through the table with a grunt. Pulling the mask back down over his face, Batman limped out of the house.

He saw the Batmobile chained to The Hog's car and disconnected them. "Open," he said. The Batmobile recognized his voice and opened not a moment too soon. The Hog stormed out herself and Batman got in his car and drove away. Since The Hog lived just outside Gotham like Bruce Wayne, he didn't have long before getting home to think on his failure. But then, Alfred would have to work awhile on his sore knee and broken ribs.

 **The Hog's perspective:**

Almost a perfect night. The Hog had saved her father and defeated the badass Batman. Nearly blackmailed him into dating and working for her. Still, time enough for that later. This was a victorious night. Too bad Al was in jail, but even that would change soon.

The Hog reached under her couch for Batman's belt and smiled. This trophy would do for now. Soon enough, she'd have The Batman's heart or head, she just didn't know which.

 **Bruce's perspective:**

Bruce was lying in bed with his right knee on a cushion and his ribs bandaged. "She did a number on you, didn't she, Master Bruce?" asked Alfred. "She beat me, Alfred," accepted Bruce. "I was lucky to escape with both my life and free will intact. And unlike when Killer Croc knocked me out not long ago she's not a metAhuman. Just an ordinary woman who attacked me and won."

Bruce thought some more. "Also," he added. "I'm ashamed that I'm a little ashamed that it was a woman. I know that shouldn't matter, but deep down inside, it does to me." "At least you realize that," offered Alfred. "Thank you," said Bruce. "Obviously, I have to rest up a few days. Then I go out. Don't have enough evidence against the Traylors... for now."

"Are you sure a few days' rest will be enough?" asked Alfred. "It better," said Bruce. "Gotham needs me."


	8. Extremely Green Measures

**Lieutenant Freeman's perspective:**

The night after The Batman's battle with the woman known as Becky "The Hog" Traylor, Lieutenant Marc Freeman was leading a group of policemen into Country Buffet. "Alright, everybody," Freeman said on a megaphone. "This is a raid. Nobody leave. Worker and customer alike are to cooperate. This is your only warning."

"What seems to be the problem?" asked Reggie Traylor, the owner of the establishment. "We have it on good faith that the management of this establishment operates a gunrunning operation on the side," explained Freeman. "I'm stunned that anyone would think that," stated Reggie. "And they call us rednecks paranoid." "I wouldn't be caught dead in a business that sold illegal guns," The Hog backed him up. "Yeah, yeah," said an unimpressed Detective Harvey Bullock. "Outta the way, fat bitch." "I'd say, look who's talkin', but I can tell your fat ain't well-trained like mine," retorted The Hog.

"Enough," Freeman stopped this argument before it escalated any further. "Bullock, Montoya, search the place." "You ain't got no right," complained Al, brother of The Hog. Forty-three minutes later, Montoya said apologetically, "No guns, no nothing, sir." "What did we tell you?" asked Reggie. The Hog was more forceful: "Order somethin' or get the Hell out!" The police chose to get the Hell out.

"Guess if Batman couldn't bust them, we shouldn't be surprised," admitted Montoya. "I don't like admittin' I can't handle any vermin he can't," Bullock pointed out. "But yeah, sometimes you get the sharks. Sometimes the sharks get you." "At least we have a lead on one of the mobs," said Freeman, trying to keep the GCPD positive. "Al Capone wasn't safe after his first arrest was dismissed."

 **Batman's perspective:**

Two nights later, Batman was back in action. His broken ribs and sore knee had somewhat recovered in this time. He had taken down a burglar when he noticed the Batsignal. Time to answer the call.

Batman made his landing on the edge of the GCPD building Commissioner Gordon was stationed on. "Yes, Commissioner?" Batman asked. "There's been a murder," said Gordon, holding out an autopsy. "Whoever it is is as good at avoiding being seen as you." Batman took the autopsy. "I'm also good at finding people who don't want to be seen," he assured Gordon.

Descending down to the Batcave, Batman looked over the autopsy. It was Julian Weitzman. Bruce Wayne knew him. This was the man who owned Weitzman's Wheels, a national chain of used card dealerships. Weitzman had been poisoned through the lips. Food poisoning? No, it sounded like the lips were the only entry point. Poisoned food would create toxic spreads in the tongue and throat throat as well. Besides, the police had investigated all the places Weitzman had bought food from during his last week of life. These places seemed clean.

Tricky. As far as Batman could tell, there was no way Weitzman could have been poisoned. Yet he obviously was poisoned. He remained stumped for the next day. Upon returning to Wayne Manor from that day's patrol, Alfred said, "Tomorrow is Saturday, Master Bruce." "I know," said Bruce. "This is one weekend I'm working." "I hate to bring this up," said Alfred, "But tomorrow is your monthly golf Saturday. You have no choice but to have unheroic fun."

 _Not now._

He would've worked on the case, rain or storm. Correction: _Batman_ would've. Bruce had to play golf. He was a wealthy businessman and wealthy businessmen generally played, if only every once in a while. What was worse was that Batman couldn't even work on Saturday night because all that golf would leave his arms tired. Again, not now.

 **Bruce's perspective:**

 _Let's get this over with._

Bruce played golf on this golf Saturday with two other rich men: Brent White and Ben Jacobsen. Ordinarily, he'd chat with them. But now he couldn't get the Julian Weitzman lip poisoning case out of his head. "Why haven't you said anything?" asked Ben. "Sorry," apologized Bruce. "How's things with you?" "Business is down, I'm afraid," said Ben. "It'll perk up soon enough," consoled Brent. "Me, I've got a permanent good thing going."

"Oh?" asked Bruce. "I've got a girlfriend," said Brent. "How long this time?" asked Ben with a smile. "She's the one," said Brent. "I know it."

Bruce had nothing better to do than carry on the conversation. "Haven't you had trouble holding onto your girlfriends?" remembered Bruce. "Uh-uh," disagreed Brent. "They tried to bankrupt me." "You mean you're too cheap to show your women a good enough time to keep them around," scoffed Ben. Ben and Bruce started laughing.

"They wanted too much from me," insisted Brent. "But not Kim. Kim's more conservative with money than _I_ am." This seemed too good to be true. Perhaps Bruce should look out for his acquaintance. Plus, an injection through the lips, however unlikely, was the one possibility Bruce hadn't considered in the Weitzman case. "When's your next date?" asked Bruce. "Tomorrow afternoon at the house," said Brent. "Don't. I saw her first. You've got your own girlfriend." "Didn't mean anything by that," Bruce assured Brent.

"How was the game?" asked Alfred. "Time-consuming," Bruce said simply. He had a crazy idea that this Brent and Weitzman just might be connected. Bruce had been taught a long time ago that a good detective considers all possibilities. He looked into the girlfriend of Weitzman. It was Cindy Crawley, a long-haired redhead with her hair parted down the middle. Bruce looked up recent photos of Brent on the Internet. Bruce found one with Brent and a woman. Other than her hair being bundled-up, this lady looked exactly like Crawford.

This was quite a coincidence. Though Bruce didn't know how or if this woman had poisoned Weitzman, she had seemingly gotten a dead wealthy boyfriend and moved onto another rich lover immediately. Curious... perhaps that trip to the golf course had been productive after all.

 **Batman's perspective:**

Batman spent Sunday afternoon watching Brent's mansion from a safe spot. A car finally pulled up. It was the same woman Bruce had seen a photo of Brent posing with. The couple hugged.

Batman couldn't wait any longer. He dropped down and both Brent and Kim gasped. "No mourning period before moving onto your next victim?" asked Batman. "I don't use women," Brent promised defensively. "I meant her," Batman said, pointing at Kim. "I don't know what you're talking about," Kim said. "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about," accused Batman. "I think the late Julian Weitzman is a name you know well." "It-it was just flirting," said Kim, surprised. "Nothing serious." "Then there's no harm in me taking you to police headquarters for questioning and testing, is there?"

Kim looked positively surprised. She turned to Brent and said, "You don't believe him, do you?" "Of course I don't believe him," Brent affirmed. "Go away, Batman," Kim smiled at Batman. But Brent wasn't finished. "We can't have you being accused, so why don't you go to the station and let the tests prove your innocence?" Kim froze for a few seconds before fleeing to her car and driving away.

"Get in the house," Batman shouted at Brent before getting to his own Batmobile, which was parked behind bushes a distance from Brent's mansion. Kim may have had a head-start, but Batman had the faster car by far. Wasn't long before he'd caught up to and pushed Kim's convertible against a tree. Had Kim not been wearing a seat belt, she would have been launched into the tree by the collision!

Batman opened up the Batmobile and got on the hood, posing menacingly. "Since you ran, I'm guessing that you killed Julian Weitzman and were going to do the same to Brent White, Kim." Kim got on the foot of the Batmobile's very long hood. "Not that you don't know," said Kim, "But that's not my real name. I'm Pamela Isley. And it's true. I killed that man."

That was easy enough. "Why?" he asked. "I need the money on these unfairly rich men's credit cards to save the planet," explained Pamela. "Save the planet?" asked a puzzled Batman. "Man is destroying it, one felled tree or cloud of smog at a time," Pamela explained. "I've decided that taking a city hostage is the only way. Gotham won.'" Batman frowned. "Does it matter if you agree with me?" Pamela asked. "Not really," said Batman. "You're going to women's prison. Don't make it hard. I don't care that you're female."

"You don't have to scare me," Pamela shivered. "I'm a petite young woman and you're a big, strong..." "Don't try it," Batman cut her off. But Pamela didn't seem discouraged. She slowly walked forward, showing her well-rounded legs, curves, and holding out her hands as if she was greeting an old flame. As she came ever closer, Batman felt as though he had gotten a very nice scent coming from Pamela. It was more than that. A lovely, hard to fully explain sensation that he really didn't want to lose to prison.

Pamela seemed to smell something else: blood. She touched Batman's stomach. If Batman didn't know any better, he'd swear Pamela's touch was electric. But not a dangerous kind of electric. The attraction Batman was feeling intensified.

Pamela felt up Batman's body to the chest. Batman panted as he tried really hard to not lose control. "Do you want take me to the police?" Pamela asked, grinning, "Or to wherever you go when you take off that mask?" She was right. Batman was fighting a newfound lust for this murderess.

Pamela felt up again from chest to exposed lower face. Without the hard costume restraining Pamela's seemingly electric touch, Batman looked up and moaned in ecstasy. Pamela knew that she had tamed the male beast. She wrapped both arms around Batman's neck and leaned forward. Batman had to end this. It was wrong. And yet, in the end, he did want it.

They kissed. Pleasure overwhelmed Batman and as his lips wrestled with Pamela's all thoughts other than love for Pamela disappeared. But when their lips parted, Pamela's smile went from loving to triumphant. "I was scared for a minute," she revealed. "I thought you were a strong enough man to maybe resist me. No. I still haven't met the one who can keep his hands off me. So you get what they all get."

The attractant weakened a bit. The revelation that the woman doesn't love you is a dependable cure. On the negative side, he did feel a tad strange.

"Do you plan on killing me?" asked Batman. "Already have," bragged Pamela. "I see the poison has begun. And yes, that's how I did Weitzman. Only that kind of 'did him,' thank God!" Batman seized her by the arms and said, "Enough. We're going..." He broke off as severe pain hit his lips and started spreading throughout his body, causing him to fall onto the front shield of the Batmobile.

Pamela collapsed onto Batman, her smirk only having grown from seeing her pursuer helpless. "If you feel like you're dying," said Pamela. "It's because you are. This poison takes three to eight minutes to kill. Well, you might push it a _little_ farther, but any last words better be now!"

"How can this be?" asked Batman. "I am the greatest achievement of Jason Woodrue, the brilliant, misogynistic botanist I used to assist," explained Pamela. "I had... feelings for him. He used those feelings to get me to partake a dangerous experiment. It worked. Don't know where the bastard is these days, but it's quite ironic. My father warned me about men like him. Don't know whether I should have listened or not, only that I've become a man eater in the truest sense. But I digress."

By now, Batman felt like his body was on fire! "I think you're a decent man," said Pamela. A rarity. Too bad you had to get in the way of Earth's savior. Want me to end your pain? Just kiss my hand." She held it in front of Batman's face. He spit on it. "Then suffer," said an angry Pamela, slapping him, getting off the Batmobile, pushing it away from her car, and driving off.

She was gone. Batman needed to cure himself. If the poison hadn't already had too much time to fester. He took an antitoxin from his belt. He dropped and had to catch it with the other hand before he got the needle to his throat to inject the medicine. The pain and disorientation subsided over the next five minutes. It was an illusion. He needed advanced treatment.

Batman got back in the cockpit of the Batmobile and phoned Alfred. "Master Bruce?" asked Alfred. "Call Leslie," ordered Batman. "Are you well?" asked Alfred. "No," Batman gave it to him straight. "I need advanced medicine or I have hours to live."

 **Pamela's perspective:**

Pamela actually had mixed feelings about how this day had gone. While she had been prevented from killing Brent White and taking his credit cards, she had taken revenge against The Batman, one of the toughest guys in the world! It was hard to imagine anyone possibly stopping Pamela now!

Except, of course, that White had called the police by now, and soon, the wealthy men of Gotham City would be aware that they had to be very careful of which woman was interested in them. Pamela still didn't have enough money to fund her plan to force along the changes that were needed to save the planet. She had to change her strategy.

 **Bruce's perspective:**

Batman had returned to the Batcave. Despite the antitoxin still staving off the poison in his body, he was weak enough to need Alfred's help to get his costume off and get up the stairs into the manor and then up more stairs into Bruce's bed. "You weren't kidding," Alfred realized. Bruce shook his head.

In time Leslie Thompkins arrived. This elderly woman had been a private doctor and friend of Bruce's parents. Although she didn't entirely like that Bruce was risking his life at night, Leslie was also someone Bruce considered a friend and the only person besides Alfred who he trusted with his secret.

"It's been too long since we last spoke to one another," said Leslie as she X-rayed Bruce. "I wish this was under better circumstances." "Agreed," said Bruce.

Leslie glanced at the x-ray. "Mm-hmm," she realized. "That's poison. This needs powerful medicine." She sighed. She stuck no less than a combined five IVs into Bruce's arms. The IVs were connected to a medicine-injecting machine. "I hate this part of my job," said Leslie. "What?" asked Bruce, figuring that bad news was coming. "This poison is too strong for me to guarantee your survival. I'll sedate you first so that it won't hurt you anymore. If you die, you just won't wake up." "At least there's that," said Bruce. "Thank you."

"I'm not finished," said Leslie. "Even if you live, you're going to be hooked to this machine for nine days." "The Batman can't be out of action that long," said Bruce. Leslie took a deep breath. "Bruce, if you get in fights tomorrow, you're lucky if you come home with a bruised ego." "I can't take nine days off," said Bruce. "I have work to..." "No, Master Bruce," said Alfred. "Dr. Thompkins is right. I should have made you take a longer break last time. Three days didn't cut it. You need more time off. I insist. Fire me if you want, but I will not stand by and let you lose your life the way Master Thomas and Madame Martha lost theirs."

Bruce paused. "All right, you two," he relented. "Nine days it is. Leslie, Alfred, I will go no further." No more words were said Leslie injected the sedative.

 **Pamela's perspective:**

The next morning, Pamela began thinking on her next move.

Killing Batman had a certain hollow glory to it. The destruction of the one who had turned out to be the greatest threat to the salvation of Mother Earth actually brought Pamela no closer to this goal. She needed more money. With Gotham's upper class learning to beware her by now, perhaps old-fashioned robberies were the answer. But Pamela wasn't stealthy enough to be a good burglar. Perhaps pheromones and natural beauty should be used for goals other than luring wealthy men into literal kisses of death. They could also be used to start a gang of armed robbers.

Pamela drove to Fitness is Life, a gym in Gotham. She didn't want common criminals but athletes who could back up her beauty and brains with brawn. She saw one clean-shaven man with a buzz cut and particularly well-sculptured physique lying down and repeatedly lifting a big weight over his head. That meant that he'd be tired when finished.

 _Perfect!_

As the man got up, Pamela turned on her pheromones. "Wha?" asked the man. "You're just what I'm looking for," smiled Pamela. "Lucky dog," Pamela overheard another man. Pamela kissed her target on the lips. He immediately returned the kiss with fire. He reached around Pamela to hug her.

"Uh-uh," said Pamela. "This afternoon's serving is over. Be a good guy and wait for me outside." Good thing Pamela's pheromones also made their victims more suggestible or this could get unpleasant.

"Why wait?" asked the man impatiently. "There are others joining our party," she replied.

"Other men?"

"Don't worry. Competition brings out the best in men."

"I guess. Don't be long, Miss..."

"Pamela. Don't forget it."

 **Bruce's perspective:**

Bruce awakened. "Alfred? Leslie?" he called. Soon enough, the two seniors were in his room and relieved.

"The worst is behind you," Leslie assured him. "Remember your promise. Nine days."

"I've already called Master Fox," said Alfred. "He thinks he can run things without you for nine days."

"I sure hope so," said Bruce, but he had other worries.

It was a long nine days. On days two and five, armed robberies committed by three men lead by a red-haired woman hit the news. This woman was being called "Poison Ivy" by the press because of witnesses she had killed with her poison kiss. She now dressed in light green stockings, dark green boots, and a leotard and wristbands made of glued-together leaves. Probably Pamela Isley. The agreed date for Batman's return couldn't come soon enough.

 **Poison Ivy's perspective:**

Pamela Isley liked the nickname "Poison Ivy." Had a nice ring to it. Much less out of place than "Pamela," which sounded kind of like a submissive woman who put up with man's irresponsible destruction of the environment. Because of this, she'd had her three lovesick cohorts call her "Miss Ivy."

After a third robbery, it was time to put the money Ivy saw fit to pay her the men into bags. Yes, she gave the men, the buzz cutted Josh, dreadlocked Jamaal, and pony-tailed JJ, pieces of what they made. Not big pieces, but they were too shot in the nuts by love to complain. They didn't know, anyway. That may have sounded underhanded, but these college athletes turned wage slaves were about to have officially made more than $100,000 over the three jobs they had pulled. Far more than any of them made in a year before they met Ivy! They weren't complaining.

Ivy stuck the money she was paying them into bags and walked over to the men who were playing a video game in the living room. "Sorry to interrupt your game, but here's your pay," Ivy said, holding the bags out. "Thanks Miss Ivy," said the men.

"Now you get back to your game and I'll prepare dinner," promised Ivy. The one problem with employing meatheads was that they were were lousy at cooking and cleaning. Oh, well. Couldn't have your cake and eat it too.

Besides, right now, Ivy was too close to absolute victory to care about minor problems like that. She now had enough money to finish her plan.

 _Beware, Earth killers! Beware!_

 **Commissioner Gordon's perspective:**

The next afternoon, the GCPD was getting flooded with calls! Three restaurants and eight cafes had apparently had their food poisoned by their own workers. Ridiculously enough, these workers admitted to what they had done. They claimed to have done done so at the request of a beautiful, red-haired woman who they hadn't been able to say no to. Probably Poison Ivy. She seduced and murdered Julian Weitzman and may have done the same to The Batman because he hadn't been seen in a week!

Finally, Gordon got the call. "The press is pressing me flat," complained Mayor John Linseed. "Can I at least say that you're close to a collar?" "I wouldn't," Gordon said softly. "But we do have a sus..." A police officer stormed in with a smartphone. "Please hold that thought, Mr. Mayor," requested Gordon

"This better be important," said Gordon, "Because you've interrupted the Mayor himself." "Is a hostage demand important enough?" asked the officer, holding out the phone." Taking it, Gordon agreed, "Yes it is." When the officer left, Gordon asked Linseed, "I have some new evidence to consider." "I'll hang on," said Linseed.

Gordon played the video on the phone he had obtained. It was a smiling Ivy. "If you're watching this, men of power," she said, "It means you know that people are dying from food poisoning all over your city. I am responsible... but not guilty. In destroying the environment and ignoring the warnings of others who have tried to end this peacefully, you've forced me to do this. You are to blame."

 _Just what Gotham needs. Another violent extremist._

"This is just a small taste of what's to come," continued the recording of Ivy. "I want the Mayor to meet with me at 6:30 tomorrow to agree to my demands. Which include bringing ten million dollars in cash, by the way. I've met poor lovesick men who have agreed to dump the poison into the water supply of your town. So trying to arrest or just not meet with me won't stop this from happening. Only doing as I say will. You don't want to be blamed for people not being able to drink in Gotham do you? Oh, and if you doubt that I am capable of this, think about the people in hospitals all over your town. Or the poor Batman. I know you'll do the right thing. Thank you."

"We have a hostage demand," Gordon said to Linseed. "What is it?" asked Linseed. "This is in Poison Ivy's own words," said Gordon, placing the phones close together and playing recording. When it concluded again, Gordon said, "You can't give into her demands, sir." "I may not have a choice," said Linseed. "What?" asked Gordon, frustrated. "People are angry afraid," replied the Mayor.

Typically cowardly politicians made for tough police work. "This wouldn't be fear of what the polls are going to say, would it?" asked Gordon. "I don't have to answer that question," said Linseed. "You have until her deadline to wrap this up." Gordon took that as a yes.

 **Batman's perspective:**

Batman was ready to return to duty, though Bruce Wayne was staying out of action. Batman wanted to visit the Commissioner earlier in the day to find out just what the Hell was going on. Because just moments earlier, he had seen Mayor Linseed announce that he was ready to agree to Ivy's demands. Linseed even vowed to fire any policeman who "jeopardized" the extortion of the century.

Upon entering Gordon's office from outside, Batman said, "Commissioner?" Gordon gasped and looked hard at Batman. "Where the Hell have you been?" he asked. "We've been worried sick about you!" "I've been hurt, but I'm better now," Batman explained. "Why didn't you tell us?" asked Gordon. "I know you don't want anyone to know who you are, but there's ways to do this. Do you have to be _this_ secretive?"

"Why is Mayor Linseed caving in to Ivy?" Batman tried to change the subject. Sighing, Gordon whispered, "Do you promise this won't get to Linseed?" "I can keep a secret," Batman guaranteed. "It's not cowardice," Gordon explained, still quietly. "It's selfishness. Linseed knows that if these food poisoning outbreaks aren't ended immediately, his re-election is in danger."

Batman was exasperated. "Are you saying that he's giving away this city to a fanatic for political expediency?" he asked. "Unfortunately," Gordon whispered, "this is a very corrupt political system. Democrats and Republicans in Gotham are both right on some things, but neither creates officials who will place the good of the city above their own personal interests."

Batman left, sighing. At least he could watch the capitulation and make sure Ivy wasn't free to brag about it. Linseed had only said policemen couldn't watch in person. He said nothing about Batman. Not that he would have let that stop him. But he would not forget that Linseed was capable of this.

 **Poison Ivy's perspective:**

Ivy and her men met Linseed in the quiet outskirts of Gotham. "I knew you'd be reasonable," said Ivy. "Here's the ten mill," Linseed reluctantly held out a briefcase of case. "What do you want?" he asked. "First, check out the money," Ivy snapped her fingers and her men took and inspected the briefcase. "It's real," confirmed Josh. "I want the City Council to pass a bill creating a carbon tax in Gotham and requiring that businesses use renewable energy and cut unclean emissions by sixty percent," demanded Ivy. "And I want you sign this into law by midnight. Don't say you can't. When millionaires need something, you don't make them wait, no matter what."

"Done," said Linseed. "No, we're not," said Ivy. "You mean this wasn't the only time?" asked Linseed. "I'll ask for other favors in a month or so," Ivy shook her head. "Just listen out." Linseed returned to his car.

As Ivy began to drive herself and her accomplices home, she smiled. Gotham City was hers. Linseed may still have been the official Mayor, but he answered to Ivy now. Gotham was the first city she had forced to be environmentally protective. Wouldn't be the last.

 **Batman's perspective:**

Batman didn't have the Batmobile. He did have his Batglider He needed to take care not to be seen because Ivy had promised to poison Gotham's water supply. Batman would let this surrender on Linseed's part play out.

 _But after that, Isley is mine!_

Perhaps Batman should rethink that. After all, wanting Ivy another way had nearly gotten him killed.

Batman used his Batglider to follow Ivy and her friends. Those men must have been seduced like Ivy had seduced Batman. Pulling ahead of the car (which was not driving fast so as not to arouse suspicion), Batman nose dived at the ground before turning towards Ivy's car and launching himself at it without the Batglider.

Batman landed on the car. Ivy and her men gasped in shock. "You live," realized Ivy. "No thanks to you, Isley." said Batman. "I prefer 'Poison Ivy,'" said Ivy as she hit the brakes. Batman's own momentum sent him flying a distance away and hitting the road with a thud!

Ivy was moving seductively towards him. "I have beauty _and_ brains," Ivy boasted. Stunned from the impact, Batman didn't recover in time to keep Ivy from getting close enough to use her pheromones. Batman's desire for this sexy woman heated again. Couldn't let her touch him. Batman already didn't have the heart to swing at her but did manage a shove that knocked Ivy back and down to the ground.

"You've come back stronger in round two," Ivy complimented. "Boys! No guns. Beat him until he's ready to become one of us!" The three men came out of the car and ran in front of Ivy like protective boyfriends. They looked much tougher than common street punks. _Great!_ "I want you to meet Josh, Jamaal, and JJ," Ivy pointed to each one of them from behind as she introduced them. "My cute and buff colleagues."

"Whatever you're feeling for her," Batman tried the diplomatic way, "It's not real. She's using you." Ivy put her arms on the shoulders of Jamaal and JJ and rested her left cheek against the back of Josh's head. "You trust me, don't you?" asked Ivy. "Yes," said all three of her men, drinking in Ivy's sensual touch. "Some strong feminist you are," said Batman. "Need three men to do your dirty work." "On second thought," said Ivy, "kill him... slowly."

The three men surrounded Batman. He saw JJ flinch and hit him with a restrained punch. Since this was an athlete, it wasn't enough to knock him down. Jamaal and Josh decked Batman from behind and and all three men began punching and kicking Batman on the ground. Batman realized that he couldn't hold too much back just because these men weren't in control of themselves. A roundhouse sweep had them all down and a kick to Jamaal's face as he tried to get up had him rolling away to gain distance.

Batman threw JJ over his shoulder into a nearby blue government mailbox. Detecting Josh from behind, Batman swung an elbow into his face, decking him. It was then that Batman noticed Ivy's car moving at full speed towards them. Batman gripped Josh and dived so they both avoided the car. Batman then fired his Bat Tracer Gun at Ivy's car as it sped away.

"She tried to run me over," realized Josh. "She played us," lamented Jamaal. "I'm never trusting a woman again," declared JJ. "That's too far," said Batman. "Not even close to all women are like Ivy." Whether Ivy's former servants overreacted to this experience, they were free. Time for the boss herself.

Upon returning to the Batcave as Bruce Wayne in his car, Batman put his costume back on and followed the signal his Battracer was giving off.

The element of surprise was valuable. Batman parked a distance away from his Battracer's signal to maintain it. Soon enough, he saw that Ivy must have been in a concrete house in a forest. An appropriate choice for an eco-terrorist.

Batman entered through a window and saw Ivy lying on a couch reading a digital novel. This was a chance to dispatch her without having to deal with those enchanting pheromones. But just as he was ready to strike, he felt a large vine loop around his right elbow. Another bound his legs together and the end of the first vine looped his left wrist. Both vines pulled him away from Ivy. Batman looked to the side to see that the giant Venus flytrap he had mistaken for a sculpture or statue was real. How green was this lady's thumb?

The flytrap let out a roar that sounded like the whistle of a dolphin. Upon hearing this, Ivy rose up to her knees to lean over the top of her couch and smiled. "What an unexpected pleasure, Batman," she said. "And there you were calling me a a weak seductress who's helpless without men. Joke's on you. I'm one of the greatest scientists in the world!"

"You're not lacking self-esteem," retorted Batman. "Enough to know I'm smarter than you," proclaimed Ivy. "So why don't you recognize this by bowing to your superior?" She snapped her fingers and the flytrap forced Batman to his hands and knees.

Ivy walked over to the flytrap and petted it. "Did mama's greatest creation catch the biggest vermin of all?" she asked in the sweet way one might talk to a dog or cat. Turning back to Batman, Ivy said, "I see you've met Lucy. Loyal as a dog and ten times as dangerous!. You didn't have to die. Should've stuck to your true enemies."

"You fall into that category," said Batman. "Make no mistake about it. You've murdered dozens of people just to enact changes in city policy!" "You talk like I'm a monster," said Ivy. "The truth hurts, doesn't it?" asked Batman.

"So I should've just stood by and let the over-class kill Mother Earth?" asked Ivy. "I'll die first!" "You could have marched for Mother Earth," suggested Batman. "Called your congressman and senators. Donated to environmentalist groups. Violence is not the answer."

"For the record," said Ivy, "I abhor violence." "You have a funny way of showing it," Batman pointed out. "People have been trying those things for fifty years," said Ivy. "It didn't work. My way did." "Not yet," said Batman. "Yes," admitted Ivy. "You're an obstacle... but not for long. Lucy, you haven't gotten much action. I think you deserve the final shot or should I say, final bite. Enjoy."

Lucy opened her mouth wide and Batman was pulled towards it. Straining every muscle against the vines, he could just barely stretch his limbs out to close Lucy's mouth just enough that he couldn't be dragged in.

"You're just making this more fun for me," said Ivy. "Your limbs will grow tired and then you're a tasty treat." She was right. Already Batman was breathing heavy. This couldn't last. One chance. He had to get a Batarang. But that meant releasing enough pressure to be dragged into Lucy's mouth. Here went nothing.

Batman took his right hand off Lucy and grabbed a Batarang. Into Lucy's jaws he went. He cut up just in time that instead of being crushed, he cut Lucy's upper jaw. Batman continued stabbing different sections of both jaws with his Batarang. Within thirty seconds of entering Lucy's mouth, she had collapsed, and Batman was ready to escape, a little worse for wear.

"LUCY, NOOOO!" cried Ivy. She pranced sexily towards Batman again. "You've done wrong, Batman. I'll think of an appropriate punishment later. Meantime, we both know where your heart lies." Batman would have thrown the Batarang, but it was too late. The pheromones had reached him. Ivy's hands joined Batman's and his resistance faded even more. Ivy leaned in for one last kiss.

"H-how could you let me kill her?" asked Batman at the last instant. "Oh, no," Ivy said furiously. "You can't blame me for your actions." As Ivy lost her concentration to anger, Batman's attraction to her disappeared. He detached his hand from Ivy's and punched. Poison Ivy now lay unconscious. It was over. Better make sure that whoever handled her did so with gas masks.

 **Bruce's perspective:**

The next morning, Bruce said to Alfred, "Don't bother cooking me dinner tonight." "Going out with Madame Christie again?" figured Alfred.

"Yes," affirmed Bruce.

"Despite the... complications, you miss her?"

"A bit. But Ivy taught me that loneliness is a horrible weakness. True love may be the only cure."

"You always seem to put it in the coldest way possible, sir."

 **Poison Ivy's perspective:**

Ivy was in a jail cell, pondering. She had been told that her angry mood swings and extreme ideology had spared her prison. Not that this mattered to her. The legislation that she had bullied Linseed into passing had become law before Ivy's capture. She had succeeded.

But this was only the first step. It looked like Batman would remain an obstacle. One that would need to be dealt with. Just as soon as she found a way out her cell.

She laughed. There she was willing to give her life to save the planet yet she couldn't even get past the iron bars in front of her. For now.


	9. Kindred Spirits

**Bruce's perspective:**

Bruce was on the phone with Christie Whitlock. "So tomorrow evening," he asked, "Would you like to go out? Maybe go to one of our usual restaurants?" "How about we go to an ice show?" asked Christie.

"Any in mind?"

"There's this one in town called _Disney on Ice_. I believe it's showing a recreation of _Cinderella_ with music and ice skaters the day after tomorrow. Let's go then."

"Aren't you a little old for Disney?"

"What can I say? There's still a little girl in me. If you'd rather go somewhere else..."

"Oh, no. You can make anything fun."

"That's so sweet of you to say Bruce. Love you! Bye."

Bruce looked at Alfred. "She's a Disney fan at twenty-six," realized Bruce. "Despite how seriously she takes her hunt for The Batman. First, Lucius is a wrestling fan. Now this." "If I may be so bold," argued Alfred, "Perhaps it is you who are too serious about everything."

Bruce thought on that. He did take everything seriously ever since... his parents died? That seemed right. And nobody seemed to have a problem with others easing up sometimes but Bruce. Maybe it was him.

"Perhaps, adult dignity be damned," said Bruce, "I should try to have fun like I always do on these dates." "I dare say, Master Bruce," Alfred concluded, "That is the more dignified way to go about it."

 **Jack Haley's perspective:**

Jack Haley was the producer of the Gotham City installment of _Disney on Ice_. The next day, he was doing paperwork for that night's show when he heard knocking. "You may enter," said Jack. To his surprise, it turned out to not be an employee. It was a young man in a suit who didn't look very comfortable in it. "Frankie Zucco," he said. "I got a business proposition for you."

"If you want tickets, I'm not the guy," said Jack. "Cutesy-ass Disney shit?" laughed Frankie. "I didn't even like that as a kid. Why now?" "Then what do we have to talk about?" asked Jack. "You might have heard that this town is dangerous to live in," warned Frankie. "Civilians like you need protection." "I know what that means," said Jack. "You're trying to threaten me. I've been threatened before. You never go through with it because it means hitting a corporation."

Frankie seemed surprised. "You ain't from around here are you?" he asked. "California, where you have to deal with coercion from scam artists," explained Jack. "I've been threatened by better than you." As he saw Frankie about to speak again, Jack declared, "Out. Find someone else to shake down." "I have a feeling that your two best performers about to be shaken down permanently," said Frankie as he walked out. Frank knew these threatening young assholes. They never had the guts.

 **Bruce's perspective:**

Bruce and Christie were watching the ice-themed retelling of _Cinderella_. Bruce had to admit he was getting mild enjoyment in this. Christie was, of course, loving it!

John and Mary Grayson, the two actors playing The Prince and Cinderella, were beginning to skate and dance together during the ball scene when the voice actor telling the story said, "But then Cinderella looked at a clock on the wall and saw that it was almost midnight." Suddenly, there was an explosion where these actors were.

 _So much for an easygoing night._

Although the narrator wasted no time shutting down the show with apologies, Bruce still said to Christie, "I think we should find out what's going on." "I'm as curious as you," agreed Christie.

In time, the police arrived, including Detectives Derek Lang and Ron Osborne. After they had asked producer Jack Haley standard questions and gotten standard answers, Christie introduce herself as "Christie Whitlock, reporter for _Gothic Report_. May I ask my own questions?" "Be our guest," allowed Lang. "I've noticed a certain look on your face through these questions," said Christie. "You're holding something back. That wasn't a question." "Why would I do that?" asked Jack. "I just lost my two best performers." "The left side of your mouth turns upward when you lie," Christie pointed to it. "A good reporter thinks she'll be lied to, but a great one knows when she is." Jack froze.

"I'd come clean," said Osborne. "It's a felony to lie to the police." "I call the police to help and they and a snoopy reporter treat me like a criminal," cried Jack. "Nobody's asking you to do anything but _tell the truth_ ," Bruce set him straight. "They were my parents," explained a nearby teenage boy. "I think I deserve to know." Seeing Bruce, Christie, and the officers looking at him, the boy added, "Dick Grayson."

Jack sighed. "I might've met someone this afternoon." "Funny how you failed to mention that to the cops," said Christie. "He might've made an offer," Jack finally broke down. "And he might've implied that John and Mary would die if..." Suddenly, Dick roared and jump kicked Jack to the ground before nearby officers restrained him. "It's all your fault," accused Dick. "If you'd called the cops earlier, they'd still be alive." "Easy kid," Osborne said. "You're overreacting," added Lang. "Yes..." agreed Christie. "But right." "Please don't report this," pleaded Jack. "If you're not responsible," Christie glared at him, "You have nothing to worry about." Nobody in the building questioned what was implied.

"What becomes of him?" asked Bruce, pointing to Dick. "He was one of the kid actors and quite the athletic skater," explained Jack. "But I doubt he would be interested in staying." Dick shook his head. Bruce may not have been a family type, but he did feel a kinship for the boy, perhaps because he had gone through this himself. "If you don't want to go to an orphanage," Bruce offered, "I'll take you in." "Plenty of paperwork," Lang hammered down the formalities. "Of course," accepted Bruce.

"Then the only thing left," said Lang, "Is whether the boy wants to live with you." "OK," said Dick. "Working here any longer would keep bringing back terrible memories, anyway."

 **Christie's perspective:**

Until this night, Christie was resolute in her mission.

Bruce Wayne, AKA, The Batman, was a loose cannon combining roughness and secrecy. It didn't help that Christie had discovered that Bruce had been lying to her for months. The only difficult part was discovering that one bit of evidence that would expose his alternate identity once and for all!

Except... why had he felt sorry for that boy? Why had he taken Dick in? Christie thought at first that maybe Bruce wanted a youthful partner, but that made no sense. Bruce didn't know anything about Dick. No way of knowing if he was qualified or even if he would keep that secret.

In other words, Bruce wasn't evil. No, that didn't make any sense, either. Christie saw The Dark Blight over the corpse of an unarmed criminal he'd killed. These mitigating facts were making this a hard story. Still more work to do. There had to be an answer that sorted all this out. Christie had to find it.

First things first: Jack Haley's reputation had to be ruined before he had a chance to hurt anyone else.

 _It's so much easier when everything's simple and obvious._

 **Dick's perspective:**

Richard Grayson was in Hell.

First he had lost his parents. Then the producer of the ice shows he had hoped to one day perform in had turned out to be responsible. Then Bruce, Dick's new surrogate father, excused himself. The following evening, _the_ _first day_? As Dick began eating his squid and rice (which tasted too rich for his taste), he asked Alfred, "It's the first night and I've been through a lot. Why doesn't Bruce have any time for me?" "It's... hard to understand, Master Dick," said Alfred.

That was a hard to accept answer if ever there was one! "What's hard to understand?" Dick asked. "He... his job requires more than meets the eye," "explained" Alfred. "I'm sorry. I'll speak to the Master about this, I promise." Dick sighed. That was as good as this got for now. Might as well finish the extravagant meal.

Dick was not used to having to walk up a long flight of stairs. A new discomfort was all he needed. "Pleasant dreams young Master," Alfred bade him. Dick's new room looked like a hotel room. Even with all his belongings having been moved in, there was a lot of space. It seemed hard to be pampered like this and yet feel miserable but there Dick was. He cried into his pillows as he realized that his parents were gone forever and he had been left with a guardian who seemed to care nothing for him.

 _Money really can't buy happiness._

 **Batman's perspective:**

In fact, Batman cared greatly about Dick's sorrow. A murderer had taken his parents, just as one had taken Bruce's. Batman's worst failure was that he never had found out who killed his own parents. Whoever it was may still have been free. Batman was determined to not let Dick and his parents down the way Batman let his own down.

Batman entered the penthouse suite of Jack Haley, who was drinking his own sorrows away. "Lost your job?" asked Batman. "Because it's the least of what you deserve!"

Jack turned to face Batman. "Aren't you supposed to be catching crooks?" he asked. "I may have been cocky with the threats I received, but that's not a crime." True. Batman could only ask, "Who threatened you?" "I learned my lesson," promised Jack. "I'm not taking the chance of getting myself killed by them, too!" "Are you so sure I won't?" bluffed Batman, cracking his knuckles.

Jack was surprised. "No," he insisted. "You wouldn't!" Batman's answer to that was to drag Jack to the balcony, tie a Batrope to his left wrist, and push him off the edge! Jack's fall was broken by Batman's end of the rope.

"Y-you'll never go through with..." Jack stopped talking as Batman yanked him up and down twice. "All right," Jack gave in. "He's Frankie Zucco. That's all I know." Batman yanked him up and down again. "That's all, I swear!" Pulling him back into the suite, Batman said, "Talk to the police. Your services as a witness will be needed soon." "I'm not doing anything dangerous," refused Jack, so Batman pulled him in close. Jack gasped in fear. "It wasn't a request," thundered Batman. "Fine, you crazy asshole," gulped Jack. _He's gotten the point_.

Batman trailed Frankie Zucco to the restaurant he was eating at with a woman, presumably his girlfriend. Batman didn't bother questioning him. If the Traylors were any indication, these crime families were both extremely loyal and afraid to "rat out" their allies. Instead, Batman waited for Frankie and his girlfriend to leave the restaurant. Before they drove away, Batman fired his Bat Tracer Gun on Frankie's car. He was going home for the night, but Batman could now keep track of where he was going. Soon he would know where these Zuccos' base of operation was.

 **Bruce's perspective:**

Upon changing clothes in the Batcave and ascending into Wayne Manor, Bruce was confronted by Alfred.

"Master Dick is wondering why you have no time for him," said Alfred. "Have you told him anything?" asked Bruce. "No," said Alfred. "Good," complimented Bruce. "That's the way it has to stay." "You're missing the point, sir," Alfred began to drive it home. "He has lost his family and wonders why his surrogate father isn't around to console him." "Batman is avenging his family's death," Bruce reminded him.

"I know that," said Alfred. "You know that. But the young Master has no idea of what is going on. And he _really_ wants to know. I had to promise to talk to you about this just for him to stop asking me about it. You should explore the possibility of telling him the truth." "I can't do that," said Bruce.

"Why not?"

"Number one, he has too much on his plate. Number two, I don't know if he wouldn't tell. Number three, I don't want him to risk his life most nights. I want him to become an actor like his parents or take over Wayne Enterprises, whichever he chooses."

"I can't argue with the first or third," Alfred had to admit. "But on the second, I can't guarantee he won't find out. I'm fairly sure that he will forgive your need for secrets. He won't easily forgive continued lies and negligence."

"Good night, Mr. Pennyworth," frowned Bruce.

 **Dick's perspective:**

Dick never thought he'd hate having a break from school. All he had to worry about was how much the loss of his parents hurt. He didn't even have a guardian who would help him through this. There was TV and video games, but they didn't help much.

"Master Dick," called Alfred, opening the door to Dick's room. "It's for you." Alfred handed over a phone. Dick answered it. "Hello?" he asked. "It's Bruce," said Bruce Wayne. "I've done all the necessary paperwork. From now on, your residence in Wayne Manor is as legal as my own."

"I see."

"I also put you in a special school."

"I'm gonna be a preppy?"

"If you choose to put it that way."

"When will you be back?"

"It... may be a long time. Look, I know I haven't been the best guardian. I'll make it right over the weekend. I promise."

Dick threw the phone to Alfred. He was angry. "Alfred, what the Hell's going on?" demanded Dick. "The Master has... secrets," said Alfred. "He keeps things from his adopted son?" exclaimed Dick. "You can't be serious!"

"I'm sorry, Master Bruce," sighed Alfred. "I can't do this anymore. Can you keep a secret?" "To the man who gave me a home, absolutely," promised Dick. "This may get me in trouble," said a reluctant Alfred, "But follow me."

Dick followed Alfred down the stairs and into another room. It looked like it was reserved for studying. Alfred pushed one side of a bookcase and it turned halfway around, revealing another room beyond it. Alfred motioned to Dick that he should enter and he did, then put the bookcase as it originally was.

Dick was lead down a flight of stairs. "Watch your step, young Master," warned Alfred.

 _This can't be..._

It was. This looked like the lair of the famous Batman. A look at the car in a driveway left no doubt. This was so cool! But Dick had one question: "How does he drive that out of here?" "Holographic wall," explained Alfred.

"There's something more important than that," Alfred finally said. "Do you want to be a part of this?" Dick thought for a moment. His parents and how much he wanted to see whoever murdered them dead was all he could think about all day. "Yes," he said. "Then please sit there and wait," Alfred pointed to the chair in front of what looked like a computer with a gigantic monitor. "Let's hope I remember how to tailor this kind of outfit."

 **Bruce's perspective:**

Alfred greeted Bruce at the door. "Are you suiting up?" asked the butler. "Yes, I am," said Bruce. They descended into the Batcave together. "Alright," called Alfred. "You can come out now." Out of a shadowy area came Dick in a costume like Bruce's but it had a red body, yellow cape, and a green domino mask, gloves, and legs.

"What the Hell do you think you're doing?" asked Bruce. Before Dick could answer, Bruce turned to Alfred and said, "And how could you do this behind my back? You're fired!"

"Hear us out," pleaded Dick. Couldn't have hurt to let him speak. "My life has been ruined," said Dick. "I can't think about anything but seeing the people who killed mom and dad dead. If they get away with it, I don't want to go on living."

"I understand all too well," Bruce said, knowing how how hard this was for Dick. "But I don't want this life for you. Getting into fights almost every night, always outnumbered, wondering each time you put on that costume if it will be the last. Because that day's coming, sooner or later. Many Gothamites don't think The Batman is human, but he is. Someday, somehow, he'll be killed. Maybe a super-criminal with a gimmick, a gangster, or an everyday thief or thug who catches me between the ages of thirty-eight and sixty."

"You can't possibly understand," said Dick, unrelenting. "Your parents weren't killed for money." "As a matter of fact," Bruce informed him, "They were." "Then we're the same," realized Dick. "All the more reason for us to work together."

Bruce sighed. "If you choose this path, all I described becomes your life. It's too late for me, but not for you. What do you wish to do?"

"It's not what I want," Dick declared. "It's what I have to do." Bruce nodded. "Can you handle yourself in a fight. Punching, kicking, and dodging bullets isn't like ice skating." "I know Kung Fu and acrobatics," said Dick, showing off a punch, too kicks, and a cartwheel.

"All right," Bruce finally gave in. "Let me get my own costume on and we'll go. And Alfred? You're not fired." Alfred nodded.

Upon suiting up, Bruce asked Dick, "Who are you supposed to be?" "Dad always said I moved like a hummingbird," said Dick. "Not much of a superhero name so I went with Robin." He pointed to the "R" emblem on his chest.

 **Batman's perspective:**

The Batnavicomputer was showing where the Bat Tracer on Frankie Zucco's car had stopped. Batman finally decided to hit Robin with it.

"Are you planning on killing them?"

"You bet I am!"

"Don't. Their fate is not for us to decide."

"Why?"

"Because fighting fire with fire only adds to the flames. It just doesn't feel right."

"But they deserve it."

"It's not about deserve. It's about what's right. Killing is wrong, no matter what. Furthermore, you'd regret it for the rest of your life."

"I rather doubt that. Thanks anyway."

"Listen to me. This is not a suggestion. It's an order. The police are to take them all to the station alive. Understand?"

Robin hesitated. "Yeah," he said.

 **Tony Zucco's perspective:**

A meeting at the headquarters of the Zucco family business was in session. It consisted of ex-boss and family elder Bobby, young enforcer Frankie, veteran lieutenants Henry and Paulie, and the boss himself, Tony.

"Is it true the unions let a hick family in?" asked Paulie. "And their next in line might be a _lady_?" "Don't look at me," Tony defended himself. "I voted against it. Now I gotta deal with that redneck once a month when us bosses meet." "Sorry, unc," consoled Frankie.

"Did you get the boss of that kiddie show to pony up?" asked Tony. "Sorry," apologized Frankie. "Whacked their best two performers, though." Frankie crossed his own throat with an index finger while making a mock slash sound.

"Did the boss get the message?" Henry answered that question, saying, "He's gone to the cops." "Idiot," lamented Tony. "Time to put 'im in the big sleep. Then we'll strong arm the recruiters into picking a new producer. A soft producer. One we can..." Tony paused, to the surprise of his relatives. Tony had hesitated because he thought he heard something above and looked up. "...Control," Tony finally finished.

"We ain't alone," Tony whispered, pointing to the guitar cases and small briefcases on the side that contained submachine guns and assault rifles. The five seized their weapons and aimed where Tony was pointing. "Blow 'the rat to Hell," ordered Tony, and they started shooting. Soon enough, the magazines emptied. "You ain't won nothing," taunted Tony. "We got several more reloads." They all reloaded and fired again. Halfway through these magazines, the shot-up ceiling finally gave way; The Batman and a teenage boy in a similar outfit crashed down through the meeting table.

"Hold your fire." ordered Tony. "Grab 'em."

 **Batman's perspective:**

The predators were now the prey. After their rough landing, Batman and Robin had been held by the arms.

"What do we have here?" asked Tony. "This never happens to... well, I guess James bond does get captured a lot," said Robin. "My bad."

 _He's joking at a time like this?_

"I prefer to make my enemies suffer," said Tony. "Garrote 'em!" Batman and Robin were strangled by wires from behind. Straining every muscle, Batman managed to throw off the two men holding and strangling him, then hit those doing the same to Robin, freeing him as well.

Batman and Robin switched dance partners. As Batman slammed one man head-first into the ground to knock him out, Robin belted his two targets in the gut and roundhouse kicked them out. "Double play," he celebrated.

Batman blocked a punch from Tony's last remaining man and dispatched him with two jabs and a right cross to knock him out. Looking around, Batman saw that both Tony and Robin were gone. Robin could now kill Tony. Batman had to find them in a hurry!

 **Robin's perspective:**

Robin may have not known who exactly lit the fuse, but he knew who was chiefly responsible for the deaths of his parents. Order or no order, Tony wasn't getting away with that.

He saw Tony trying to get in his car and threw a Batarang. It cut into the back of Tony's left knee, forcing him down. Tony drew a pistol, but he wasn't able to get a clean shot at the gymnastic Robin. Eight shots were fired and missed before the gun clicked. Robin ran in and kicked the crouching Tony to the ground.

As Robin grabbed him by the tie, Tony said, "OK, I give up, Rocker or whoever the Hell you're supposed to be." "Robin," the boy clarified. "I'm not without doubts as to what I have to do. Testify against the other mob unions and I won't beat the shit out of you." "Cuss a lot for a kid, don't you?" laughed Tony. "Sorry, but I'd rather go ta jail with that TV I'll make sure I get than commit suicide."

"That's just too bad isn't it?" said Robin pulling a vial of Bat Acid out of his belt. "Wait," said a shocked Tony. "I thought The Batman didn't kill." "He doesn't," Robin informed him. "But just this once, I will if you don't spill it." "H-He'll never forgive you," cried Tony. "He'll get over it," said Robin, taking the lid of the vial off and preparing to pour the acid on Tony's neck.

"No, I won't," promised Batman from behind. "I gave him a chance," said Robin. "He refused." "We still can't kill," said Batman. "If you kill him in anger, I will consider you to be just another murderer among many in Gotham."

Robin wasn't entirely sure how to approach this. He needed to explain his feelings, but he could only go so far in front of Tony without blowing his cover. "He's killed a lot of people," screamed Robin. "He has to pay!"

"He will," said Batman. "The right way. Look at him. He's beaten and afraid. Others who some call heroes may fight to the death, but never when they're begging for their lives. That is nothing short of cold-blooded murder!"

"Can we make sure the charges stick?" asked Robin. "You win," said Tony, getting his phone out of his pocket and turning on its camera and recorder. "I run a protection business. I recently had actors for that _Disney on Ice_ shit whacked." He turned it off. "Happy, brat?"

"Yes," said Robin, punching Tony out.

Robin kept thinking about this night on the drive home. When it was almost over, Robin said, "The more I think on it, the more I realize you were right, Batman. I would have regretted killing him for the rest of my life. I'd have never been the same."

Batman patted Robin on the shoulder. "Good to hear, young man," said Batman. "As long as you do what is right and are ready for rigorous training to keep in prime condition, I'll be happy to have you as my partner." Batman held out his hand and Robin shook it.

"By the way," asked Batman, "Do you have to joke to criminals so much?" "Yes," Robin smiled at him.


	10. Joker's Mole

**Harleen Quinnzel's perspective, a month ago:**

At twenty-four years old and fresh out of Gotham University, gymnastics and, more importantly, psychology graduate Harleen Quinnzel did not expect to be called by Joan Leland, the chief psychiatrist of Arkham Asylum. Ordinarily, someone as young as Harleen would be lucky to even get an assistant job. Indeed, Harleen had until this moment resigned herself to years of boring paperwork. Then the call came. "Dr. Quinnzel," Harley heard an inner city accent (Leland was black) on her phone. "This is Dr. Leland. Please report to my office." _Better make good on this opportunity._

Harleen entered the office of the woman who was unsurprisingly almost twice her age. If anything, she was younger than Harleen expected. "Have a seat, Dr. Quinnzel," greeted Leland. Harleen did so. "Are you single," asked Harleen. "Because I can't imagine the boys controlling themselves around a young you if you've got that figure now." It wasn't exactly a lie, but it was still a suck-up. "Thank you," said Leland calmly, not worn down by the compliment. "Unfortunately, the assignment I have for you is less than pleasant." "Oh?" asked Harleen.

Leland nodded, saying, "We have a... difficult patient. Goes by the name of The Joker." "Why wouldn't we call him his real name?" asked Harleen. "That's just it," noted Leland. "We don't know his real name. In fact, other than that he got mutated in a vat of chemicals months ago, we don't know anything about his past other than that he was mutated somehow. But we know he's a sadistically fun-loving patient who does not respond to conventional treatment. Two of my psychiatrists have learned that the hard way. One is still out of action, thanks to him." "The other moved on to another patient?" asked Harleen. "Mm-mm," Leland shook her head. "He's dead. Don't know how he made that Smilex of his in here, but he did." This assignment just got a lot more exciting!

"So with two capable, experienced psychiatrists having failed with tragic results, I thought of you," said Leland. "You're hardly the stereotypical sensitive but boring doctor. You're young and full of life. I hear you prefer to be called 'Harley Quinn' and still do the flips and cartwheels you had to do in college." "Want to see them?" volunteered Harleen. "Perhaps later," Leland politely declined. "The point is, maybe your loose, fun style can get the like-minded Joker to finally cooperate." "Let's hope," said Harleen. "Just remember," warned Leland. "This isn't a game. You have to keep your guard up or you'll end up like the other two. Are you in or out?"

"I'm in," said Harleen, shaking Leland's hand. "Just in case he tries anything," said Leland, "Show me your moves." Harleen pushed her chair to the side to make room for three back flips and two cartwheels. She followed that up with three side snap kicks. As Leland clapped, Harleen smiled, "If he tries anything he'll learn what my rough boyfriends in school did: I ain't no mannequin." "Do us proud," chuckled Leland.

The next day, Harleen entered The Joker's cell with guards. Looking at Harleen with a threatening grin, The Joker said, "The heavyweight champion of the worlllld has his new challenger. Lllet's get ready to rumbllle!" "Do you have to be so dramatic?" asked Harleen. Joker nodded. "Because I've seen macho dudes like you before." "Let me guess," said The Joker. "You showed some college raccoons that you're nobody's bitch and think you're ready to tame a bear." "They were bigger than you," Harleen pointed out. "Like I said, I know your type. You think you're the toughest man on Earth. Then a strong lass like me comes along and puts you in your place. And I'm not afraid to save you from yourself, just in case you're wondering."

The Joker stood up and put his hands behind his back for the guards to cuff them. He seemed to mellow a little bit. "This is gonna be fun," he said.

 _I've won his respect. So far, so good._

Within minutes, Harleen and The Joker were in a patient evaluation room. Harleen was ready for anything. "What was your childhood like," she asked. "I don't remember," said Joker. Make that anything but that. "What do you mean?" asked Harleen. "It's very simple," explained The Joker. "Eight or nine months ago, I saw that I looked so different from everyone else. That's as far back as I can remember, Doctor. The cop scientists say that I took a dip in the chemical drink." He took a break to laugh, though Harleen found that dangerous, not funny.

Harleen couldn't help but feel sorry for The Joker's extreme case of amnesia. _Don't you dare show weakness to this psycho!_ "So," she asked, "You're trying to tell me that you don't remember anything before that? Playing as a child? Making friends? Your first kiss? Graduation day?" "I remember bits and pieces." "Then let's put humpty-dumpty back together again," suggested Harleen. "One problem," said The Joker. "What's that?" asked Harleen.

"The flashbacks are always changing," explained The Joker. "Take, for instance, what I was before Batsy took me here. Was I a gangster using a chemical plant to store things before he pushed me into a vat of chemicals? A failed comedian who joined a group of robbers who were foiled by Batman? A worker who panicked upon seeing him in person and jumped into chemicals by mistake? A junkie he tried to get out of trouble and... didn't?" The Joker laughed again. "Slay me!"

"This is serious business, Joker," said Harleen. The Joker shut up. "So let me get this straight. All your possible origins are different but they all agree on one thing: The Batman made you this way." "Hadn't thought of it that way, but yeah," said The Joker.

Although she still wasn't letting The Joker see it, Harleen was angry at The Batman. _Gothic Report_ , specifically it's main crime writer, Christie Whitlock, was right. Batman had ruined this man's whole life! The Joker's crimes were Batman's fault. Without him, The Joker would still be a normal, sane man. Yet only The Joker was in a cell. Alas, Harleen couldn't do anything about that. All she could do was save her patient.

 **Batman's perspective, present day:**

The Batmobile had hooked the trunk of some escaping bank robbers' car. Batman and Robin got out and saw the three masked robbers doing that on both sides. "B+ for being secure enough guys to wear panties on your heads," said Robin. "F for stealing." Since the robbers waited this long to draw their guns, Batman figured that they were amateurs. Sure enough, the Batarangs from who the press had billed The Dynamic Duo disarmed the men before a single shot was fired.

While Batman right crossed one robber and shoved another's into a car door to knock him out, Robin took care of the one on his side of the car by jabbing, mid-level snap kicking, and roundhouse kicking him. A low spin kick by Batman to the last conscious one as he tried to get up from Batman's punch and it was over.

"Too easy," said Robin, wiping his hands off. "Don't get cocky, Robin," said Batman. "Gotham city has an old saying: if there's not a crime wave now, just wait five minutes."

Sure enough, when they got back in the Batmobile and Batman turned on the police radio, the recording said, "There has been a jewelry store robbery on Steiner Street. All nearby cars please assist. Suspects are in clown masks. The leader is suspected to be a known felon who goes by the name of The Joker."

Batman was stunned! He'd put The Joker away months ago. "You alright?" asked Robin. "It's not The Joker," assured Batman. "But it was on the damn radio," Robin reminded him. "First of all," Batman informed Robin, "Watch your language. Second, believing everything you hear will get you killed on this job. Finally, The Joker is in Arkham Asylum where I put him a long time ago. Case of mistaken identity."

"But what about the clown masks?" asked Robin. "How do you explain that?" "Could just be a Joker imitator," offered Batman. Robin still seemed unconvinced, so Batman said, "It can't be him. That's all there is to it."

They followed the fast-driving car to an apartment and parked a distance away. "Into our poor people disguises," ordered Batman. He and Robin took off their costumes and put on dirty clothes, including old baseball caps so their clean hair wouldn't give them away. Bruce wore a shaggy, fake beard as well. In the apartment they went. "Do you know where friends of ours are?" asked Bruce in a blue-collar accent. "They just arrived and would have been in a hurry." "Room 109," said the cashier. "Thanks," said Robin in his own accent, since Bruce forgot to say that.

After Batman and Robin were back in costume, The Boy Wonder asked, "What's eating you?" "You're not getting me to believe the impossible," said Batman. "It's not The Joker. It can't be." They fired their Batgrapples onto the windowsill of Room 109. "On my mark," said Batman. "1... 2... go!"

They burst through the window and attacked the criminals who were divvying up their jewelry. Batman slammed two of their heads together Robin took out another with a leaping roundhouse kick. One was left. This one had drawn his automatic pistol and backed up to the wall between the bed. Batman recognized him as The Joker.

 _Please let this be a nightmare._

"It's my old friend Batsy," said The Joker. "And he's endangering a kid yet considers _me_ the bad guy?" "The only endangered species 'round here," taunted Robin, "Is you clowns." "You're definitely not his son with that sense of humor," laughed The Joker.

"How did you escape?" demanded Batman. "I hate movie trailers that give the whole plot away," said Joker, taking aim at Robin. Batman dived in front, hoping to deflect a bullet with his armor. Instead, Joker shot at the left elbow joint area of the costume, which was one of the weaker spots. It actually stung. Batman still had enough strength to Batarang the gun out of Joker's hand. For his part, Robin Batbola'ed The Joker, jump-kicked him against the wall, and held him in place.

"You OK, Batman?" asked Robin. "Just a flesh wound," said Batman, "But the answer is still no."

 **Bruce's perspective:**

Bruce's heart wasn't into his company the next day. Hard to focus on revenue, expenditures, and supply and demand when one of the most dangerous criminals in town had somehow escaped. At least that was over. Christie Whitlock was waiting just outside his car.

 _We haven't agreed to a date tonight. What's up?_

"To what do I owe the honor?" asked Bruce. "I wanted to see you, love," said Christie. "I came here in a taxi, so how about about driving me home? Without your chauffeur?" "I'd like that," said Bruce.

 **Christie's perspective:**

Bruce had giving his chauffeur the day off, so he was the one driving the car. Christie got her mace out of her purse and took aim at Bruce's face. "I've got mace aimed at your face," she threatened. "Is this your idea of a joke?" asked Bruce. "Oh, no," Christie assured him. "I've never been so serious in my life!"

"Why would you blind me?" asked Bruce. "I wouldn't blind Bruce," explained Christie. But The Batman? He's another story. Yeah, I know he's really you in disguise."

"How would you guess something that ridiculous?" said Bruce. "Watch it," warned Christie. "You're determining whether I spray right now! I'll give you credit. Your disguise is perfect. You've put together one Hell of a false personality! But as Batman, you made one key mistake. He called me 'Whitlock.' I never told him my name. That was all it took. I realized that Batman was acquainted with me out of that costume. I may know a lot of people, but you being fairly big narrows it down a bit. Don't forget, that Batmobile must be owned by a rich guy. Wasn't long before the process of elimination lead me to you."

Bruce hesitated for twenty-three seconds. "Didn't you hear my voice when meeting Batman for the first time," he tried. "Batman seems to know boxing, martial arts, gymnastics, rope tricks, police detection, stealth, disguises, and that's off the top of my head," reasoned Christie. "Why not ventriloquism?"

At this point, Bruce had parked the car in Christie's driveway. "I'm not done," said Christie. "Congratulations," said Bruce. "You're a great journalist." "Thank you," said Christie." "But if you meant to expose me, you wouldn't be here." "Correct," confirmed Christie. "I'm not sure what to do. We can start with how you've been lying to me for months and months."

"I don't remember saying I _wasn't_ Batman," said Bruce. Slapping him with her free hand Christie said, "Don't be a smartass with me, Bruce! Look at me. I know you. Yes, I can see that you're afraid I'll expose you and the boy you're calling Robin. I think I can tell if you're lying. What is Batman about?"

"You know how I lost my parents," said Bruce. "Yes," said Christie. "It shook you up but you recovered." "I only pretended so I could start training at an early age without making anyone the wiser," explained Bruce. "All those talents you mentioned? Took all my teen and pre-teen years to learn them. I don't want what happened to me to happen to anyone else ever again. If you don't believe that, go ahead and destroy me!"

"If only it were that simple," said Christie. "I now believe you aren't evil, but vigilantism isn't the answer. I-I don't know what I'll do." She got out of the car. "I need time to think. If I decide to expose Batman, I promise to think of an easy way and a hard way for you." She backed into her house, keeping her eyes on Bruce's car as it pulled out of the driveway.

"You know Gotham needs him," called Bruce as he drove away. There _was_ that. Batman had in fact stopped many dangerous criminals. And as much as he had created the so-called super-criminals of Gotham because his existence was a challenge to anyone who thought they could take Gotham from him, if was iffy at best if The Dark Knight's fall would put an end to them now that the cat was out of the bag.

Christie had a difficult decision to make.

 **Batman's perspective:**

Even with a car that could do a hundred eighty miles per hour, it still took a while to get from Wayne Manor to Gotham City. It was during this drive that Batman hit Robin with it: "You know how I said that Christie is after me but already has Bruce? Well... she knows we're the same man. And she's guessed who you are, too." "This is bad," realized Robin. "What are we gonna about it?" "There's nothing we can do about it," said Bruce.

"There's gotta be something."

"Has she broken any laws?"

"Not really."

"Is she a threat to Gotham?"

"No."

"Then there's nothing we can do but wait for what she decides. She's promised to tell me and give me an easy way out."

Robin thought. "She's gonna make us burn our costumes?" "If she decides to move against us, probably," figured Batman. "I know you really like her," Robin said sensitively, "But..." Suddenly, rockets fired into the sky. Batman immediately stopped the Batmobile. He lowered the shield of the car so he and Robin could look up.

"I hate to complain," said Robin with reluctance, "but why are we stopping to watch fireworks?" "Because a good detective checks everything," explained Batman. Sure enough, the explosion of the rocket left the signal of a clown face. "Guess Christie's the least of our worries," said Robin. "Right you are," agreed Batman.

They drove towards where the rocket appeared to have originated, only to see and hear explosions everywhere. The bulletproof windshield was shattered and the engine stopped running. If the Batmobile were a normal car, Batman and Robin would have been killed dozens of times over by now.

"Through the windshield," Batman quickly commanded. "What windshield?" asked Robin as they did so. Batman was looking around. "We must have hit a minefield," he reasoned. "No duh," said Robin. Alfred's really gonna love..." "Under the Batmobile," yelled Batman as he spotted a sniper in a tower like those used in 19th century forts. Three shots missed as The Dynamic Duo dived under the Batmobile.

"He's planned this perfectly," said Batman. "I'd rather stop him than admire him," Robin said. Batman nodded. "I'm the one criminals are worried about, so I'll try to draw his fire," he planned. "Twenty seconds into it, you sneak under the tower and tear down the legs with Bat Acid. Don't give me a 'I can't let you do this' speech, young man, because I'm ordering you to."

With that. Batman got out and immediately started running to avoid a shot. The sniper was too far away for Batman to read his body language and from that far away, bullets might build enough momentum and force to pierce body armor. Batman had to rely on instinct alone. This was enough for Batman to dodge the remaining bullets and force the sniper to reload. Robin was halfway to the tower. the sniper had reloaded, but Batman managed to anticipate and avoid three more bullets. Alas, he had maneuvered himself into a fall.

But just as a shot would have found its mark, the tower tipped over because the legs Robin had cut off with the Bat Acid were no longer there. "Noooo," Batman heard The Joker scream. Batman was much less surprised that the sniper turned out to be the mad clown than that he seemed more concerned about missing a chance to destroy The Dark Knight than to save his own life.

 _Then again, he is a lunatic!_

Joker lost his sniper rifle in the fall and it fell a distance away. Batman and Robin stood in front of it as The Joker got out of the fallen tower. "Sorry," said Robin sarcastically. "I forgot to scare the animal of the tree first. I do believe it's a rat." Batman actually managed a slight grin. The Joker, meanwhile, was uncharacteristically angry. "Nobody pranks this prankster and lives, brat," he growled as he squeezed his suit flower to send acid at Robin, which Robin blocked with his cape until the acid totally depleted.

The Joker tried to run, but Batman and Robin caught him soon enough. Some hitting rendered him unconscious. "And all it cost us was the Batmobile," said Robin. "This is going to be a long trip to the police station. Batman pointed to the Joker's car a distance away. "Oh," Robin realized that they could hook the Batmobile to it.

"And we're not taking him to the police," said Batman. "He goes straight to Arkham." "I take it you don't think he could've escaped twice in less than a week without help?" asked Robin. "No, I don't," answered Batman. "I think he has a mole."

 **Robin's perspective:**

Batman and Robin had their man and now they had to find his co-conspirator who kept helping him get out of Arkham. Robin thought that was pretty cool. They were like TV or movie heroes. Adventures that the Dynamic Duo could survive because there wasn't anything they couldn't do! Except keep Bruce's girlfriend from finding out who they were. But movie superheroes had the same problem so it kind of worked out.

They tied up The Joker with Batropes and climbed with him into the office of chief Arkham psychiatrist Joan Leland. "We need to have a word with you," said Batman behind Dr. Leland. swiveling around in her chair, Dr. Leland asked, "I have a door, you know?" "Hi," greeted Robin, trying to loosen her up. "I'm Robin, this is The Batman. We're returning The Joker to you." "I know exactly who you are, young man," said Leland sternly. She had apparently read too much _Gothic Report_.

"You don't approve of what we do?" asked Robin. "It would be more accurate to say I don't approve of _how_ you do it," Leland made herself clear. "These are not bad people you bring here. They're troubled people who need help." "Hold on," Robin tried to defend himself. "You're..." "Understandable," Batman interjected. "We try not to do any more damage than necessary." "You're no fun," The Joker finally entered this conversation.

"But that's not why we're here," said Batman. "We want to know why this... extremely troubled individual keeps escaping." "I'm truly sorry," apologized Leland. "We have tough security." "It's not that," said Batman. "This is too easy to be mere incompetence." "It could be that he's really good at all the wrong things," offered Leland. "It could also be that he has help on the inside," Batman rejected.

Dr. Leland wasn't happy about that. "We don't help patients escape before they're certified as sane and I resent the implication," said a now angry Leland. "So we're forbidden from investigating this place or even asking questions?" asked Robin. "By all means," allowed Leland. "Ask your questions. You may start with him." She pointed to The Joker. "But he reserves a right to have his doctor present." "Slumber party," laughed Joker.

Batman, Robin, The Joker, and Dr. Harleen Quinnzel, entered a patient interview room. "So what's the deal?" asked Batman. "Who's working for you?" "That's a boring question," said The Joker. "Here's a better one for you. How many people did I kill in between our last two battles? That's a lot of people you could have saved if you'd caught me faster." Robin really wanted to kick him, but he wasn't screwing up this interrogation.

Suddenly, Robin felt something prodding the back of his head.

"Batman..."

"Yes, I feel it in the back of my head, too, Robin."

"I don't suppose that's a ruler?"

"Uh-uh," said Dr. Quinnzel. "You ain't hurtin' my puddin'." "You're making a mistake, Dr. Quinnzel," said Batman. "You can call me Harley Quinn," said the psychiatrist.

Batman and Robin immediately evaded to opposite sides and silenced shots missed both. She took aim at both again, but Batman, seeing that Harley wasn't ambidextrous, seized her left arm and shook out the gun. Harley fought back with a back flipping double kick that knocked Batman backwards and down to a knee. Harley aimed at Robin and shot. Robin had read her well enough to duck the bullet. He heard a scream of pain behind him and a thud.

"Puddin," shouted Harley, dropping her gun, pushing Robin aside and holding a fallen Joker. "Let me see where I gotcha." "You ditz," said The Joker. "I didn't mean it," swore Harley. "Not that," clarified Joker. "You should've shot them first." "You're more important than they are," said Harley, blowing on the wound. "Batman," realized Robin. "I think we should..." But Batman was a step ahead of him, opening the door and yelling, "Medics!"

Batman and Robin were forced to wait in Leland's office. An hour later, she returned. "The Joker's going to make it," she said. "No doubt you're less than overjoyed. I'm never judging anyone again." "What do you mean?" asked Robin. "First," said Batman, "We want to know about Joker and Harley." "As you've no doubt guessed," said Leland, "My... former doctor who now calls herself Harley Quinn was helping him escape. But he wasn't paying her. Ms. Quinnzel did it for love."

"She actually loved that creep?" asked Robin. "Now she's a patient, not a doctor," nodded Leland. "It's ironic. There I was judging you for being too rough and insensitive with the patients when I was creating one of them. I thought young Harley was ready to have a patient of her own. I was wrong."

"You meant well," understood Batman. "To the Batmobile."

Batman and Robin were using The Joker's car to tow the Batmobile back to the Batcave. "How could she love that son of..." Robin stopped, remembering that Batman had told him to watch his language. "...that jerk?" "I actually understand," said Batman. "I know what it's like to look into the eyes of a criminal and see love." There's a good story here," said Robin. "Not tonight," said Batman. "You need to be inactive for the rest of the night so you can sleep as soon as we get home. You've got school in the morning and I expect at least an A- average, remember?"

Robin sighed. Batman had saved himself. But he hadn't heard the last from Robin on this subject.


	11. Cover the Spead

**Dick's perspective:**

One thing Dick Grayson didn't like about being Robin was that he couldn't watch night sports anymore. The Batman and Robin were usually on patrol during those hours. But while Dick had to give up his fandom of hockey and basketball, there was always American football on Sunday afternoons. And although Bruce seemed to have no interest other than crimefighting anymore, Dick was a different story.

"Watching that American version of rugby, young Master?" asked Alfred as he dusted the living room coffee table. "It's not rugby," insisted Dick. "It's a unique sport with different rules." "If you say so," said Alfred, still seeming unconvinced but watching the game as he dusted nonetheless.

It was a home stand between the Gotham Vampires and their archrivals, the Metropolis Pteranadons. This particular game had been one-sided, 17-3 after a quarter. "The reason they can't win," Dick happily explained, "is #49 - Narquon Smith. No offensive line can hold him." Sure enough, Smith sacked Michael White to make giving the ball back to the Vampires all but impossible.

On the very next play, Smith immediately broke free of offensive tackle Ryan Powers and was drawing near White again. But at the last moment, Smith dropped to the grass and clutched his right arm in pain. Three seconds later, White lobbed the ball down the field for a touchdown!

Dick snapped his fingers. "Man, we could've had the ball and good field position if..." Dick saw Smith walking off the field. "He didn't screw up," realized Dick. "He was hurt!" "An athlete's body is under constant stress," Alfred tried to explain. "It's happened to Master Bruce, too." "I don't think so," said Dick. "He's missed one game in three years and gets injured on a no-contact play?" Still, they watched the remainder of the game, which the Pteranadons won 45-41. Without the heat Smith had been putting on White, the Vampires had no answer for Metropolis' offense.

"Sorry about the Vampires," consoled Alfred. "I do believe they're... what did that graphic say, again?" "5-2," Dick remembered. "And I don't care. I think something's fishy." He went downstairs into the Batcave where Bruce Wayne was working on the Batmobile.

"I hate to interrupt, but something's happened," said Dick. "Signal's out?" asked Bruce. "Not yet," said Dick. "But something very suspicious happened in a Vampires game." "This better not be about a call that didn't go their way," frowned Bruce. "It's an injury," said Dick. "That's worse," said Bruce, tapping his own forehead. "To someone who's never injured and making a no-contact play," said Dick. "I make it a policy to check into absolutely everything," Bruce assured him. "But right now, this seems unlikely."

 **Batman's perspective:**

Because the Batmobile had been recently damaged by The Joker, Batman and Robin used the Batcycle. Good thing Batman was a compulsive planner.

Burger Duke Stadium was the destination. They were going to investigate the locker room of the Vampires and probably confirm that it just a random injury Smith had suffered. They searched Smith's locker after picking the lock. "Starting to look like you were right," admitted Robin has he searched the helmet. "Maybe not..." said Batman as he removed some tape to the side of the helmet that was thin enough to blend into the black helmet.

The Caped Crusaders looked at the tape to reveal a computer chip. "What's that?" asked Robin. "Evidence that this really wasn't an injury," said Batman grimly. "Check for prints, then?" suggested Robin. "Whoever planted this has to come back," Batman pointed out. "We hide until he does."

Sure enough, a four-foot man in a Victorian Age getup, complete with top hat, came by soon enough. "Freeze," commanded Batman as he came out of hiding. the small man immediately gave flight, with The Dynamic Duo in pursuit. The suspect eventually made it to his car. Batman and Robin chased on their Batcycle. Unfortunately, its wheels didn't have the same protection as the Batmobile's; a gunshot by the suspect had the it falling on its side as the tire flattened.

Fortunately, Batman kept a compartment in the front shield of the Batcycle for spare tires in case of such an emergency. Of course, the target was long gone by this time."Now what do we do?" asked Robin. "Ask a detective," Batman reasoned. "And I know just the one."

Batman and Robin came into Detective Harvey Bullock's apartment through the window. It was a dump! Less a money thing than a hygiene thing. The unshaven, dirty Bullock was a slob's slob!

"Sorry to interrupt the game..." started Batman. Bullock snapped his head around and smiled, "I hate both 'o these teams, anyway. Whatcha want with me? I hear ya don't got a car no more. That's whatcha get for lettin' the kid drive." "Ha, ha," said Robin sarcastically.

"We found this chip in injured player Narquon Smith's helmet," Batman brandished it. "That shit's French to me..." began Bullock. "...Although..."

"Although what?"

"Although there's been many suspicious sports injuries lately."

"And at bad times for their teams?" asked Robin. "When our teams are the favorites," nodded Bullock "Their star players keep gettin' hurt." "Thank you, Detective," said Batman. "You've really helped us out." "Anytime, freaks," Bullock said, giving them a thumbs-up sign.

Upon getting on the Batcycle again, Robin asked, "How's that little creep doing this?" "Scientists have figured out how to control animals' muscles through the brain," Batman speculated. "He might be using that chip to command peoples muscles to pull themselves." "So the only question is," realized Robin, "Can we stop him?" "Not tonight," Batman said. "No idea where he went. We check upcoming games in which a lot of bets are being made on Gotham's teams."

"For now..." Batman cut himself off as he saw two masked men sneaking into a closed store. "Let's do a quarterback sneak," suggested Robin.

 **The Mad Hatter's perspective:**

Jervis Tetch, The Mad Hatter, finally looked back. The Batman and Robin weren't there anymore. He drove a couple blocks away and halted his car for the vertically challenged just to be sure. Five minutes passed.

 _Looks like they've given up. Yeah! Time to collect what the bookies owe me._

The Hatter set foot in what looked like a store under construction in Gothic Mall. He walked down the stairs where secret bookies operated. "I've come for my winnings," declared The Hatter to Bobby, the head bookie. Bobby reluctantly snapped his fingers and pointed at The Hatter and a nearby man started writing a check.

"Does bein' little make you lucky?" asked Bobby. "I don't know," answered The Hatter. "'Cause how else do you never lose?" lamented Bobby. "There, there," The Hatter mock-consoled him. "Plenty of typically dumb customers that don't have the inside track." "That's true," nodded Bobby.

 _If only you knew just how inside my track really is._

By now, Bobby's accountant had finished the check. The Hatter checked. Everything seemed to be in order. Time to head to his apartment.

The drive back was a little scary. The Mad Hatter had a bad feeling that he was being shadowed. He entered his room. Before the auto-locking door shut, it was pushed back open and a man noticeably larger than Batman pushed it open.

"What brings you here?" asked The Hatter. "Brock," said the visitor. "I wanna know why you always win." He lifted up the diminutive Hatter by the lapels to drive home the demand. "I won't just tell you," promised The Hatter. "I'll show you." He was lowered and he went over to a set of Gotham Vampires hats on a rack and removed one. "Put it on," he suggested. "How the Hell's that..." began Brock. "Just do it," said The Hatter. The fool was putting it on. "Induce Trance," grinned The Hatter. Brock immediately went from threatening to docile.

"Good sir," said The Hatter, "I am The Mad Hatter. _The_ Mad Hatter. You are invited to my tea parties. Two does not make a party, but you let me know where you live and I'll tell you when our company is ready to be formed."

 **Bruce's perspective:**

Bruce came home the next evening to find Dick playing video games yet wasn't enjoying himself. When a kid plays video games and isn't having fun, you know he's depressed. "Sorry to interrupt," said Bruce, "but you look down." "Yeah," confirmed Dick as he turned the TV and console off. "I want to find that little creep. He embarrassed us." Bruce nodded. "The Gotham Reindeer are 7.5-point favorites thanks to their Captain, Jeff Lockett." When do we leave?" Dick asked with determination.

 **Robin's perspective:**

After the last practice session before puck drop began at First Gothamite's Stadium, the Reindeer hit the showers. Batman and Robin sneaked into the Reindeer's locker room as they did so. They quickly searched Lockett's helmet and removed the chip. "Boy, is he gonna be disappointed with this game," Robin silently giggled. "Oh, we're disappointing him worse than that," corrected Batman. "Much worse."

Wasn't hard to find the little bastard. Batman and Robin just had to look for the guy who was both very small and dressed like someone in the Victorian Era. Robin smiled. _You're gonna get it now!_

Finding him, The Caped Crusaders flanked and opened the front doors. "Who are you supposed to be?" asked Robin. "Jiminy Cricket?" "The Mad Hatter," the little man self-identified himself. As Robin burst out laughing, The Hatter reached into the glove compartment to pull out a Gotham Vampires hat and put it on Robin's head. "Induce trance," said The Hatter. Now he was the one laughing.

Suddenly, Robin lost consciousness.

 **Batman's perspective:**

Robin's expression had changed from jovial to emotionless. "Is something wrong?" asked Batman. "Very wrong," The Hatter continued laughing. "Kill The Batman." Robin walked around the front of the car. "You're not..." Batman was cut off as Robin rushed him. Batman blocked the flying kick but was still launched several yards away. "Not like I'm giving anything away," said The Hatter, "But the boy's under my control and adrenaline is flowing. If you're alive meet me in Gotham Park. Ciao!" The Hatter drove away.

Robin charged again. His fist plowed through Batman's block and decked him. As Robin began to choke Batman out, he struck at the hat to knock it off. Robin gasped and backed up. "Was I doing that?" he asked. Batman was right. Knocking off the hat and embedded chip had done the trick. "Wasn't your fault," he said "He seems able to control people's minds with those chips to an even greater extent than we realized. He told us to meet him in Gotham Park. That's where we'll go."

Halfway to the park, Robin suggested, "Maybe you should take me home first." "Why?" asked Batman. "Because... because I ruined it for you earlier tonight. Almost killed you." "Don't talk like that," said Batman. " You just made a mistake and lived to tell about it. The second part is what is important. We all slip up sometimes."

"Have you?"

"As a matter of fact, I've been handed my head on a number of occasions. I learned that it's not about winning every time. Not about being untouchable. It's whether you can take these disappointing early rounds and keep chugging along. Moreover, I don't think running away from The Hatter will make you feel any better about this."

"It'd make me feel worse, wouldn't it?"

"That I wouldn't know. I've never given up."

Batman hoped Robin felt better about this, but he didn't ask to be taken home again, so he probably did. In fact, the last thing either of them said was when the car parked just outside the park and Robin asked, "Why'd you stop?" "This place isn't designed for driving," explained Batman. "Too narrow and full of trees and other obstacles. We walk."

Gotham Park was a terrifying place, especially at night. There were so many criminals there. Not as many as before Batman turned up, but they continued to say that you were either drunk or stupid if you walked there at night.

Of course, your chances of survival went up if most criminals feared you. Batman and Robin were looking for the one criminal on the street who didn't.

Eventually, The Dynamic Duo found The Mad Hatter drinking tea at a park bench with five other people. These people were dressed as The Cheshire Cat, Queen of Hearts, White Rabbit, Bayard the Bloodhound, and _Alice in Wonderland_ herself.

"There are the Knaves," shouted the "QoH," who had unfortunately spotted Batman and Robin. "Off with their heads!" "Not yet," said The Hatter. "Welcome, final guests," greeted The Hatter, "To The Mad Hatter's tea party. Have a seat."

Batman and Robin were flabbergasted! "Is this a joke?" asked Robin. "Not at all," said The Hatter. "I am the reincarnation of the original Mad Hatter. I have brought back some of the original characters. You will be two original creations of mine that I use to improve on the original classic."

Robin was laughing out loud, much to The Hatter's ire. "What the boy means to say," Batman defended his partner, "Is, this is what taking people's lives away from them is about? A retelling of _Alice in Wonderland_?" "That was _not_ a fairy tale," insisted The Mad Hatter. "I am creating a new Wonderland. One everyone will prefer over the ugly little world they now live in."

"Are all these archcriminals nuts?" whispered Robin. "Most of them," confirmed Batman. "Well, making you cooperate is easy enough," said the Hatter. "Hold them for me." "The chips have to be somewhere in their costumes," said Batman. "Be careful, the chips put them on adrenaline."

Sure enough, The Hatter's slaves were moving in very fast! Blows from the "QoH" and "The White Rabbit" had Batman and Robin on the ground. They were held prone and The Hatter began reaching into his pocket for more chips.

Straining every muscle, Batman managed to get a leg free and kicked off "Alice's" hairband. "Wha..." Asked "Alice." "This may sound crazy," whispered Batman, "But you were under mind control. They were ordered to attack me and Robin, not you. Get the head part of their costumes off." "Gotcha," said "Alice" as she pulled back the head area of "The White Rabbit's" costume, freeing and causing him to release Batman. "Alice" did the same to the remaining slaves.

"Oh, shit," realizd The Mad Hatter. "That's not how this story's supposed to go. Unfair." He drew from underneath his suit coat a mac-16. Batman dodged a spray and Bataranged the gun out of The Hatter's grip. The Hatter dived on it, only to discover that Robin had gotten a foot on it first. "Noooo," screamed The Hatter. "Now, now," grinned The Boy Wonder. "Nobody likes a sore loser."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" noticed Batman. "Oh, yeah," chuckled Robin. "As for you," Batman said as he lifted the four-foot Hatter up, "I'm afraid - but not as afraid as you - what's in store for the smallest inmate in Arkham Asylum. Let's just hope you aren't next door to Killer Croc or The Joker." The Matter gasped in horror at this possibility.

 **Bruce's perspective:**

Bruce was about ready to go work the next morning. Dick came down the stairs to be taken to his private school. He looked much happier than he had the previous night. "Thanks for the pep talk last night," said Dick. "You restored my confidence." "What are guardians and partners for?" asked Bruce with a smile.


	12. Face-To-Faces

**Harvey Dent's perspective:**

The new District Attorney of Gotham City, Harvey Dent was walking on a sidewalk at night when large, disembodied replica of his own head appeared before him. "You're a powerful man now, aren't you," asked the head. "Too bad you don't know how to use it, wuss!"

"What do you want?" asked Harvey backing away. "Control of my life," explained the head. Harvey knew then who this bizarre copy of his head must be. "I'm in control," Harvey declared. "Have been since we were nine. Why don't you just go away?"

"Because that is my body," the head reminded him. "Mine. I was here before you. You're a creation of of our 'loving' parents' beatings. You have stolen what is mine. And I'm not a case of the flu that just goes away after awhile."

"I can keep you down. I've been doing that twenty-nine years."

"Maybe, but people _have_ been known to die in their sleep."

The head floated towards Harvey and opened its mouth as it were going to eat Harvey.

It was then that Harvey woke up. He turned to his clock. only 3:39 AM. He tried and failed to get back to sleep. He saw his lovely wife, Gilda, sleeping in bed. _Better not wake her_. Harvey put on one of his suits, watched an hour-long show on his phone and a streaming service he subscribed to, and drove to work. This was a big day.

 **Batman's perspective:**

The Batman and Robin were riding to the police station on the Batcycle (the Batmobile still wasn't repaired) to answer the Batsignal. After ascending to the top with Batgrapples, the two were surprised to see not just Commissioner Gordon but also a man in his late thirties.

"And you are?" asked Robin. "District Attorney Harvey Dent at your service, young man," said the man. "I know who you are," said Batman. "Youngest DA in Gotham City history. You're very good at what you do. Conviction rate's been raised from ninety-three percent to ninety-seven percent. Crackdowns on corruption in the police force have also gone up. Well-done!"

"Thank you," said Harvey. "But I don't consider the mission to be accomplished until we have the crime families on the run. As luck would have it, a plan to bring down the one family we have identified will be set in motion tonight." "Go on," said a very interested Batman.

"We have a lead on the Traylors' arms dealership," explained Gordon. "Or at least one of them. We would shut it down now, but Harvey has a better idea." "I have it on good faith," nodded Harvey, "That the head of that family, Reggie, is heading there tonight to check on things. That's when we nail them." "They've shown an impressive ability to get their people out of jail," Batman reminded them. "That's why you won't be a part of this bust," planned Harvey. "No, you need only to perch above, record the old man trying to slip away and stop him." Harvey pounded his right fist into his left hand for effect. "With him dead to rights, we might be able to get him to testify against the other bosses."

"Smart thinking," said Batman. "That's the way to go, in fact." "No time to waste," said Gordon. "Just don't be late."

On the drive, Batman said, "Dent's plan sounds like it's got a good chance of success, but there may be one person to worry about." "Who's that?" asked Robin. Instead of answering, Batman switched the Batnavicomputer to its web browsing mode so Robin could see a picture of Becky "The Hog" Traylor.

"You're worried about this out of shape lady?" asked Robin. "Actually, she's not out of shape," said Batman. "Like Sumo wrestlers, her mass is largely muscle. And the fact that women have great strength for their size makes her even tougher. She even beat me in a fight once. I'll never forget the three ribs that she broke with that move she calls The Hug. Under no circumstances are you to confront The Hog without me. Understand?" "Got it," said Robin.

 **Reggie Traylor's perspective:**

The patriarch of the Southern crime family known as the Traylors had arrived at one of the several arms dealerships he had in his territory. He looked over the place and the income/expense report. "You've got thing runnin' well, Freddie," Reggie said to the 26-year-old manager. "Good kid. you Got a future." Suddenly he heard Commissioner Gordon on a megaphone say, "Open up in the name of the law! This is a raid!"

"Oh, shit," said Reggie. "No problem," an optimistic Freddie assured him. "Ah have ways of hidin' the guns." "If they got reason to suspect," Reggie feared, "Ah can't be seen here." Nodding, Freddie looked at a security guard and ordered, "Get the ol' timer outta here through the basement and sewer."

Reggie walked through the basement and a hidden tunnel took him to the sewer. He resurfaced through a manhole. The plan was now to take a cab home. Gordon would find nothing and Reggie knew to not come directly to his extralegal businesses anymore. _Better luck next time, sons of city bitches!_

But just as he was thinking that, he heard a thump behind him and spun around. It was The Batman and that youngster he was hanging around lately. Falcon or whatever it was? "If it ain't my old pal, Batman. And he's got a kid."

"Robin," that very kid introduced himself. "Only fair. You got your younger protege. Batman here's got his. Although this one," he motioned to himself, "Is a lot less fat." "You're coming with us," said Batman, grabbing Reggie by the suit lapels. "It ain't gonna work," insisted Reggie. "You'll never prove I was..." "Your prints are now on that manhole. That Asian lawyer's got his work cut out for him, because there's no reason to use it other than to escape." _Oh, shit!_

Reggie was taken to the police station. A man flipping a two-headed silver dollar who Reggie recognized as DA Harvey Dent visited him in the interrogation room. Sitting down, Dent said with a smile, "I go to Texas every second vacation. Great weather; nice people; lots of history..." "First of all," Reggie interrupted, "Ah've never been to Texas, so Ah don't know none o' that. Second, Ah get my ass kissed enough at Country Buffet, thank you very much. Third, we teach our kids loyalty in the South. Is my Southern lingo's losin' you? How 'bout this? I ain't betrayin' the other mob unions, as you call 'em."

"We'll catch them anyway," promised Dent. "And you'll have lost a chance at a lighter sentence." "If you were so sure," grinned Reggie, "You wouldn't be here." This went on for half an hour before Dent finally gave up, saying, "Maybe a few weeks in court will change your mind."

Soon after, Reggie was visited by his daughter, The Hog. "Have they hurt you?" she asked, concerned. "Ah wish so," said Reggie. "Unfortunately, they know better than to screw up their case." "How can Ah help?" asked The Hog. "Ah'll do whatever it takes to save you. That's a promise." "My loyal, badass daughter," said Reggie. "Ah knew Ah could count on you. Yuji can't beat Dent in court. Ah was caught fleein' the scene. They got my prints on a sewer hatch. But Yuji can outargue his assistants well enough to get me at least a hung jury."

The Hog loved where this was going. "Ah'll break the sumbitch in half," she promised. "No pun intended." "No," cautioned Reggie. "Gettin' caught in the wrong place was how we got into this mess. Ah know who to call."

 **Harvey Dent's perspective:**

Ordinarily, DAs are too busy running all the criminal cases in town to personally handle trials, but Harvey made an exception for Reggie Traylor. These rich mob bosses have the money and connections to punch your lights out if you don't know what you're doing!

But upon getting out of his car in the courthouse's parking lot, Harvey was grabbed by the throat with a single arm from behind. _One arm? Then he's got a weapon in the other hand_. Sure enough, this assailant was reaching around to slit Harvey's throat with a hunting knife. When Harvey caught the arm and threw the attacker down. Harvey then banged the left elbow of his opponent on the floor to disarm him seized the knife.

Suddenly, Harvey's mood began to change. His alternate personality had seen an opening for the first time since childhood. He began stabbing with the knife. After three thrusts at the abdomen and two at the chest, someone else kicked it away. Harvey stood up and began strangling his new enemy for 1.3 seconds, but released upon realizing that it was The Batman.

"Why did you interfere?" asked Harvey. "He needs to pay." "Not like that," said Batman. "That was too far." Harvey thought about this. "You're right," he realized. "I'm sorry. I overreacted. How'd you know, by the way?" "I knew the Traylors would try this," said Batman. "Never figured on pulling you off the bad guy. Are you well?" "More than well enough to convict a coward," promised Harvey.

 **The Hog's perspective:**

Al and Becky "The Hog" Traylor had watched Harvey Dent walk all over Yuji Takahan, the family lawyer, for a few hours before the judge called the first recess. "Don't look good for Dad," Al spoke the obvious. The Hog looked at him and nodded sadly. She was about ready to burst into tears. Even if she staged a successful second assassination attempt, it was too late. Dent's powerful opening statement needed only a mundane presentation of the facts in the case to convict. Imagine having a loved one's fate in your hands and failing. This was The Hog's situation.

"Wanna hug?" asked Al. The Hog buried her face in his arms, sobbing. "That's right," encouraged Al. "Let it out." "It's all my fault," said The Hog. "Papa trusted me to save 'im and Ah failed." "Who knew that lawyer could be a badass?" asked Al. The Hog wept her tears. She wanted to talk to her father.

Upon walking the halls to reunite with Reggie and Yuji, The Hog said, "Ah'm so sorry." "If you're that hurt," realized Reggie, "You had to have done your best. Besides, it's my own fault. Ah messed up. Should never have gone to that place. You did nothin' wrong, got that?" "Listen to him," suggested Al.

"Listen, Becky," said Reggie. "More than me's at stake. Ah'm leavin' the family businesses in your care. A woman's never been my idea of a company CEO, but you're the best person for the job. Just don't make the same mistake Ah did." Reggie turned to Al. "Please respect my wishes, Al." Al nodded. "Ah've been expectin' this for a long time," Al nodded. "Ah'm just not as smart as Becky. Ah know that. You got my blessin', Becky."

"Thank you," The Hog acknowledged Al. "You're still important to... my company now, I guess. Just not a CEO." Al smiled and nodded. Turning back to Reggie, The Hog asked, "What about you?" "Ah got one last request," implored Reggie "Tell us what to do and we'll do it," promised The Hog. "Uh-huh," Al agreed. "Get me a gun," Reggie made his last request. "I'm gonna blow that sumbitch Dent's head off in front of the whole damn city!"

"I'm sorry," said The Hog. "But we'd never get a gun in..." she had to pause. It was hard to say no to her father under these circumstances. "What she's tryin' to say," Al finished, "Is we can't get a gun past metal detectors." "You're true Southerners, right?" asked Reggie. "Outdoors-peeps. Should be resourceful enough to get me another way to get the son of a bitch back."

 **Reggie's perspective:**

Commissioner Gordon, The Hog, and Freddie had all been called as witnesses over the next few days. It had been established that the place Freddie operated kind of looked like an arms dealership. Add Reggie's flight and case closed. But if you can't have freedom...

"Do you wish to call any more witnesses, Mr. Dent?" asked the judge. "No," answered Harvey. "The state rests." Yuji stood up. "The defense wishes..." "Call me to the stand," whispered Reggie. Sitting back down, Yuji asked, "Are you sure you want to do this?" Reggie nodded. "Take care of my daughter, you hear?" "I will," promised Yuji. "Thank you for everything." Yuji stood up again. "I call my client to the stand," said Yuji. A remarkably long period of questions and answers followed. They didn't want to give Harvey any reason to believe that he was about to die.

"Your witness," said Yuji to Harvey. Harvey walked over to where Reggie was sitting. "Is it inaccurate that all the police forces within thirty miles of your old home in South Caro..." He stopped as Reggie drew a thermos of purple acid and unleashed its contents on the DA. Harvey had a court document in his hand that he used to protect the right side of his face, but the left side was not so lucky. He fell to the ground in agony and Reggie saw that the bailiffs were pointing guns at him.

"You wanna some o' this, Yankees?" asked Reggie. "Here it is!" The bailiffs answer to that was a stream of bullets. Reggie smiled despite the pain. Death was near, but he was taking Dent with him!

 **Harvey Dent's perspective:**

"Oh my God," exclaimed Gilda in the hospital as she saw Harvey's scarred face for the first time. "So you can't take the ugliness," said Harvey. "It's a shock," admitted Gilda. "But I can get used to it. You know I love you. I always will." She kissed Harvey on his scarred cheek to prove it. Harvey was only fifty percent convinced.

When she left, Harvey finally had a chance to eat in private. The old Traylor had scarred Harvey as much mentally as physically. The resurgence of his alternate personality, already strengthened by the assassination attempt, was now complete. His realization that Gilda's love may have only been skin deep had not helped.

So now the clashing personas had their own plans. One wanted to get plastic surgery and forget all this. The other wanted to first destroy the surviving Traylors. This personality didn't mean by law. It meant mortal combat.

Justice or vengeance. Harvey needed a tie-breaker. He grabbed his silver dollar and the steak knife he used to eat dinner with. He scraped one side of the coin for a full minute until it was covered in scratches. Now it was like Harvey. Two sides. One beautiful, one ugly. Now he just had to flip the coin to decide which path to take. Most would say that you couldn't leave something this important to chance, but they weren't dealing with these two enemies. Try spending decades of your life sharing a body with a mortal enemy. _Then_ Harvey would have listened to your objection.

 _Wait. Why leave the man who created this split twenty-nine years ago out of this?_

 **The Hog's perspective:**

The Hog and Al were being held for questioning by the GCPD.

"Do you expect us to believe you you had nothing to do with what happened to Harvey?" Lieutenant Freeman asked for the fourth time. "Come clean," insisted Detective Bullock.

The Hog took this in a surprising direction. "Why're you focusin' on us?" she asked. "From how Dent went nuts on that attacker even though he was down and disarmed, then ran away when all he needed was plastic surgery, Ah'd be worried about him."

"Cut the bullshit," insisted Detective Montoya. "We know you were behind this." "Got any proof?" asked Al. "Mebbe not..." began Bullock. "'Mebbe' nothin'," The Hog cut him off. "Those without evidence can't say shit! We've a crisis of our daddy goin' nuts and endin' his own life. You got a similar crisis. Resolve that before blamin' us."

"We haven't enough evidence to book them," conceded Freeman. "Better luck next time," laughed Al. "You better hope there ain't a next time," threatened Bullock. "Ah've seen that movie before. By the way, Bullock, Ah never thought Ah'd find someone with worse English than us." That seemed to set Bullock off. "Get the Hell out," he yelled.

After returning to Country Buffet, The Hog took a seat in the office that once belonged to her father. "You look good in that chair," said Al. "No hard feelings?" asked The Hog. "No," Al shook his head. "Ah'd say the better man won but you ain't exactly a man." They laughed. "Wait," cautioned The Hog. "What about Dent? If the cops suspected our involvement..." "As a hunter, Ah can tell you that a bear's most dangerous when he's cornered. We better watch our asses!"

 **Harvey Dent's perspective:**

Harvey came to the house where his "loving" parents lived. The rest of his life was about to be decided.

Father Chris and Mother Marcia were watching TV on their couch when Harvey came in. "Why hello, my little...," Marcia stopped talking noticing the scarred left side of Harvey's head. "Have you been fighting again, young man?" _She never did understand that we're grown men now._

"Son reunited with Mom and Dad," said Chris, hugging him. Harvey didn't reciprocate. "Sit back down," he commanded. His parents did. Turning off the TV, Harvey said, "This is a momentous instant for all our lives." He drew an automatic pistol and the newly-ruined silver dollar. He showed his parents the clean and scratched sides. "Good heads you live," he said. "Bad heads you die."

His parents were now in shock. "How can you do this?" asked Chris. "We're you parents!" "We love you," added Marcia. "If so," argued Harvey, you never would have beat us so much as a child." "We had no choice," Chris reminded him. "You were getting into trouble. The pranks and bullying were getting out of hand. We had to do what it took to discipline you before you grew up to be a criminal."

"And you were headed in that direction," seconded Marcia. "We didn't love being tough. We were tough because we loved you." "Lies," shouted Harvey. "We may have done a lot of bad things to you, but when did we ever lie?"

Harvey had no answer. "Half of us feels that you did it for our own good," he said. "The other half thinks that he's hearing the excuses of terrible parents." "Oh my God," realized Chris. "The bad side of you is back."

"I never left," corrected Harvey. "And why should I leave? I'm the original Harvey. You beat me into splitting personalities. Well... now we'll see who calls the shots. Harvey or... Two-Face." He flipped the coin. Bad heads came up. Evil had triumphed over good. The self-renamed Two-Face fired two shots at the heads of his parents, killing them.

This was it. No turning back. Two-Face's criminal destiny had been realized even after having been sidetracked by his dear late parents so many years before. His next targets were the Traylors. For there was no way Reggie acted alone.

 **Two-Face's perspective:**

Although he had not officially resigned as DA for secrecy's sake, Two-Face was ready to begin his criminal career. He had used the GCPD intelligence files he had been trusted with to find the thugs needed to start his own gang. He had also found another of the Traylors' arms dealerships. Two-Face and his eight men charged in with sub-machine guns and shot everyone inside up. "What'd we ever do to y'all?" asked one wounded man. "You're in the wrong place at the wrong time," grinned Two-Face.

As one of his men pointed his gun at the poor sap, Two-Face said, "No, we haven't figured on killing in cold blood. We'll have to flip for it." He did so. Bad heads. "Send these rednecks to Hell," ordered Two-Face. The survivors pleaded for a moment. Only a moment.

 **The Hog's perspective:**

The leadership of the Traylor family business was in a meeting about the Two-Face situation.

"The third hit?" The Hog sternly asked her nephew, Joey. "Yeah," said Joey, who had originally gotten the news. "Robbed us of another few hundreds of thousands."

"Thought he might get in our potatah salad again," said Al. "But Ah thought he'd just try to kill us. This don't make no sense. He's a law an' order type. Why in the Hell would he be terrorizin' us? These types ain't into this mind game shit."

"It may be Harvey Dent," said Daisy Thompson, The Hog's communications expert and cousin, "But the way I hear it, it ain't the DA." "Please speak English," requested The Hog. "He's got another personality," explained Daisy. "This guy loves destruction and makin' his enemies squirm."

"You mean Papa drove him nuts?" asked a surprised hog. "Not exactly," said Daisy. "Looks like he's been nuts his whole life. But one personality kept the other in his place until recently. Uncle Reggie's acid shocked Dent into lettin' the other one back in control."

"Then we better stop assumin' we're dealin' with a reasonable man," realized The Hog. "Get more toughs to my arms dealerships. Three of them up in smoke is enough."

 **Batman's perspective:**

Two-Face had committed seven crimes in the last two weeks, three of which were against shady stores. And Batman could guess who owned those stores.

"Why would Harvey do these things?" asked Robin. "I'm stuck for an answer myself," admitted Batman. "But I have an idea of who might have one. Just stay outside the place we're going and don't help unless I'm in trouble."

Batman entered the window of The Hog and was sneaking up behind her but stopped upon hearing the words, "Ah'd recognize those sexy footsteps anywhere, little bat." The Hog swiveled her chair around to face Batman and smiled, "To what do Ah owe the honor?"

Batman seized her by the elbows and fiercely demanded, "I have questions. The sooner you answer them, the sooner I'll leave you alone." "But Ah don't want to be left alone," said The Hog. She kicked her high-heeled shoe up through Batman's legs to force him to back up, lean forward, and clutch his groin in pain. An overhead elbow had him falling the rest of the way.

As Batman tried to stand, The Hog's arms wrapped around his elbows and sides to put him in The Hug. Sharp pain ensued. This wasn't good. It was how The Hog had polished off Batman once before. "We can do this the back-crackin' way, handsome," The Hog laid out her ultimatum. "Or the hard way, if you know what Ah mean." She chuckled at that. Batman said nothing. "Thought so," said The Hog. "Gotta be careful. Break your back without killin' you!" That was obviously meant to scare Batman into surrendering, but he was far too tortured a soul for it to work.

Suddenly, something hard hit The Hog and knocked her down, freeing Batman from her grasp. Rolling to the side to gain distance and gasping to catch his breath, Batman looked and saw that Robin had apparently floored The Hog with a flying kick. "Look, lady," said Robin. "I know it's hard to find an open-minded guy who'll give a barrel of bacon a chance, but he said no." Robin dodged three punches before jumping into and bouncing off a wall to launch himself elbow-first into The Hog. Instead, she caught Robin by the arm and twisted. Robin's right elbow was dislocated and he yelled out in pain. But by this time, Batman had recovered, bound The Hog in a Batbola, and knocked her back with a flying kick.

Robin had popped his right elbow back in. "You're immobilized and outnumbered," warned Batman. "Ah can call for help, little bat," said The Hog. "It'll be here sooner than the cops." "We didn't come to fight," said Batman. "We just want to ask questions." "Why didn't you say so," asked The Hog. "I did say so," corrected Batman.

"Why is Two-Face targeting you?" asked Robin. "How should I know?" asked The Hog in a way that would convince the untrained ear. "Because he's got it out for you, Hog," said Batman. "He thinks you were involved in his scarring. Were you? And if not, what would you guess has steered him wrong?" "If Ah'm gonna tell you," said The Hog, "Toss the belts and any recordin' shit to the side." Batman and Robin did so.

"He ruined my papa's life," said The Hog. "My brother and me had to respond." "Dent forced your father to pay for his crimes," said Batman. "Expect no sympathy." "Make a livin' in the open country of South Carolina where there ain't no conventional economic structure before you judge what we do," The Hog defended herself.

"Nothing justifies attempted murder," said Robin. "'Nuff philosophy," concluded The Hog. By now she'd gotten her arms free. "You wanna play some more or go after your true enemy?" "Where do you think he'll hit next" asked Batman. "That answers my question," realized The Hog. "There's a place at Browner Street. And no, Ah ain't tellin' you where the place is. Ah have reason to believe that's Two-Face's next target."

Batman and Robin were watching Browner Street the next night. Eventually, they saw two cars slowly driving by with men inside who wore out of place suits despite this not being a very affluent part of town. Looked like the right people. Descending from the small building they were on, The Caped Crusaders threw Batarangs at a back tire of each car, flattening them.

Out came eight goons. They began firing their sub-machine guns. Batman and Robin dodged the bullets and each chucked three more Batarangs, disarming six of them.

In the dark and with body armor, Batman and Robin could deal with two armed men, so the charged forward with a side of their protective capes pulled over the body. Sure enough, a combination of evasiveness and aggressiveness enabled to them to close in on their targets without injury. Batman leveled his target with a right cross, but Robin's initial kick didn't take care of his opponent, though he was disarmed.

"Behind you," warned Batman. One of the disarmed men had gotten his gun back and was shooting at Robin. But Robin had gotten the warning and dodged. The hoodlum he was attacking was not so lucky. "Sam," shouted numerous thugs.

Before this escalated any further, Two-Face called, "I've changed the tires." Gunfire had Batman and Robin scrambling for cover. The cars sped away and for secrecy, the Batmobile had been kept too far away.

"Two down," Robin noted the man Batman had knocked out and another who had been shot dead. "Seven to go. That sucked. Now we have no idea where they'll strike." "I have some idea," said Batman. "Sooner or later - more likely sooner now that we've shown that we can stop these attacks - Two-Face will grow tired of annoying the Traylors and try to take them out. Stay alert."

 **Two-Face's perspective:**

Two-Face was incensed. He hated being foiled. Why did The Batman and Robin care, anyway? What was the difference between Two-Face and the Traylors?

 _There isn't. But killing gangsters is still murder._ This was the voice in Two-Face's head. A voice called Harvey Dent.

Wait a damn minute! In Two-Face's frustration, he'd forgotten something important. He stormed into the living room where two men were playing poker, one was playing a video game on his phone, and the others were on a couch watching TV. "Didn't somebody shoot one of the two who didn't make it?" Five of Two-Face's remaining men pointed at Pete, one of the two poker players.

"It was an accident," pleaded Pete. No sale. "'Accidents' are dangerous in this business," said Two-Face. He flipped, caught, and showed his coin to Pete. "Good heads," Pete smiled and sighed.

"Boys," Two-Face commanded. "Drop this bag of trash in on the cops. He's their problem now." "Wait," screamed Pete. "I'm supposed to be in the clear." "We have no idea what you're babbling about," said Two-Face. "Dent believes in justice and you've committed thirty years worth of crimes." As three of his men dragged Pete away, Two-Face thought on his situation. Enough hitting black markets. It was time to take out the Traylors and steal their businesses. And if Batman had bad enough taste to avenge them, Two-Face would be well-positioned to fend The Dark Knight off once all that was Becky "The Hog" Traylor's was his.

 **The Hog's perspective:**

The Hog was on the phone. "Yeah, these are the same kinds of bombs the Army uses," she said. "And because of that, they'll cost you extra. Don't want 'em? Others will. Ah knew you'd be..." Suddenly, the signal was lost, as was, obviously, the call. Seconds later, Joey barged in. "Aunt Becky," he huffed, "We're under attack! Phones are jammed so we can't call for no help." "She-ut," cursed The Hog. Had to be Two-Face, though The Hog thought he'd get the rest of the arms dealerships first.

Like many Southern families, the Traylors loved military history. Which was just as well because they were now in a war zone.

 **Robin's perspective:**

Batman and Robin had just prevented another mugging when they Batgrappled up for a rooftop look across town. "It's begun," said Batman. Robin knew what "It" had to be but still asked, "You can tell?" "With these trained eyes, yes." They immediately got into the Batmobile to speed to the scene of the crime.

"We should have help this time," reasoned Robin. "Negative," said Batman. "The police won't interfere until one side is destroyed because gangsters and desperadoes aren't 'worth a cop's life.' We're on our own" "So what's the plan?" asked Robin. "Getting in the middle of the crossfire is too dangerous. We have to try to reason with one side, then the other. The Traylors aren't psychotic like Two-Face. We start with them."

Robin felt that there might be more than practicality at work and asked, "You do know that Harvey's not the good guy we knew, right?" "That good guy is there, somewhere," Batman insisted. "That might give him the advantage," warned Robin. "Maybe," Batman had to admit. "But if you're going to be a hero, you've got to do stupid things every once in a while." "I hate it when you make sense," said Robin.

And something stupid they did. Instead of waiting for the two gangs at Country Buffet to wipe each other out, Batman and Robin swung on Batgrapples feet-first through closed windows. They were now face-to-face with the Traylors. "Stop shooting," suggested Batman. "I think we can reason with..." Gunfire cut him off. Batman and Robin dodged and the former Batgrappled towards the armed men in the main room of the restaurant.

For his part, Robin Bataranged a gun out of The Hog's hand and jump-kicked at her. Robin was dodged and caught in The Hug. The pain was excruciating. "Ah love kids," said The Hog, "So Ah'll take your surrender." Wouldn't be long before something broke. Robin headbutted The Hog for no effect. "You'll have to hit harder than that, boy," she said. "Your daddy can't get you outta this." Maybe if Robin fought like the boy he was and not like a man. He snapped his head back as if to deliver another headbutt. The Hog braced for another hit. Instead she got tongue in the right eye. This stung enough for Robin to escape a loosened grip and roundhouse punch The Hog, staggering her back.

A snap kick to the shoulder and two more to the face had The Hog reeling. Robin dodged two punches with ease. "Too slow," he said. "Better hit the treadmill, trailor trash." The Hog then fell to the ground, holding her right eye. "It's burnin'," she cried. "Yeah, right," mocked Robin. "It's spread to my face," said The Hog, now clutching her nose and right cheek. "Ah've been infected. Ah swear on baby Jesus!"

 _What have I done?_

Robin knelt down next to The Hog, but before he could help, he had been belted in the nose and felt dizziness come over him. Next thing he knew, he was back in The Hug. This time, The Hog's eyes were closed. "In case you're wonderin'," she informed him, "Yes, you've got blood comin' outta your nose. Any more fat or redneck jokes? Didn't think so." Within thirty seconds, Robin had blacked out.

 **Batman's perspective:**

Taking out armed thugs could take time. With that time, Batman had dispatched all of them except Al Traylor, brother of The Hog. Blocking a punch, Batman threw two of his own that had Al on the ground and being gripped by the shirt. "Leave my brother alone," Batman heard The Hog say. Batman looked and saw The Hog carrying an unconscious Robin. _I warned him not to go after her by himself. Why didn't he listen?_

"By the way," frowned The Hog with a fierce glance at Batman, "What lucky woman is this boy's mother? And why the Hell didn't you tell me long ago that you were married?" Batman said nothing. A smile came onto The Hog's face as she realized, "You ain't his father. Ah got a shot at you yet. Still don't know why you brought a child into this." "You wouldn't dare," said Batman. He actually didn't know that, only that the Traylors had a twisted code of honor.

"You insult me, little bat," said The Hog. "Ah'd never kill a boy. But here's the deal. You got two choices. Either you unmask and prepare to do as Ah say from now on to keep your identity a secret or Al over there will shoot you and I'll finish little Robin's education myself." By now, Al had recovered his gun and was pointing it at Batman's face.

"You'll be happy together," suggested Al. "Shoot," chose Batman instantly. The Hog wasn't happy to hear that. "My sweet Jesus," she expressed her disappointment. "Am Ah _that_ bad?" Before Batman could answer, Two-Face and his men had forced the barricaded door inside open and were taking aim at Batman, Robin, The Hog and Al.

"Nice goin' little bat," chastised The Hog. "You've buried us both." "If you'd stopped shooting and let me reason with..." "Shut up, both of you," demanded Two-Face. "We thought the mom from _The Waterboy_ was our only target tonight, but it looks like both of our main enemies are goin' down!"

"Listen Mr. Dent," offered The Hog. "Ah know we can make..." "Don't call me that," snapped Two-face. "I am Two-Face. Dent is our wussy other personality. Why am I explaining anything when I should be shooting you all?"

"You do that," warned Batman. "The police will never stop chasing you." "The organized crime unions will look to avenge one of their own, too," added The Hog.

"It's too late for us," said Two-Face. "That's not true," said Batman. "They'll know you were driven by insanity. But to shoot face-to-face in vengeance? That's a lot to forgive. On the other hand, you can get help and become sane again. Get back into law. And there's Gilda. You know she wants to see you again. She wants to have that child with you. Or you can kill us and need eyes in the back of your head for the rest of your life."

"Ain't it time we settled this?" The Hog held up her end. "You end this fight now and Ah'll make sure neither we nor any other union members go after you. We've both hurt each other, Two-Face. Why not bury the hatchet?"

Two-Face seemed to be having second thoughts. He withdrew a coin from his breast pocket. "It's what the coin says," he declared. "Why?" asked Batman. "This should be one of the easiest decisions of your life!"

"You don't understand," said Two-Face. "Half of us sees the logic of what you say. The other half wants revenge and the cops and unions can go to Hell! We're deadlocked. When that happens, fate is in command."

Two-Face flipped his coin. Batman couldn't see which side of it came up. Two Face paused for a moment after the coin flip. Then he turned to his men. "Throw your guns aside," he said. "But boss," said one his men. Two-Face shot him and the others tossed down their guns.

Retrieving his assault rifle, Al said, "Bad move, Scarface." "No," ordered The Hog. "We don't break our word in this family. As for you, little bat, here's the boy." She held Robin out and Batman took him in his arms. "Take him and get the cops here, seeing as how Two-Face shorted out our phones."

Soon enough, Batman and Robin were watching Two-Face and his men get arrested from above. "Think there's any hope for Harvey?" asked Robin. "There's always hope," assured Batman. "Why aren't the Traylors in trouble?" Robin asked after thinking a bit. "No evidence they did anything but defend themselves," said Batman. "One thing I haven't taught you. Bad guys don't always lose."

Batman thought for a moment. "I thought I told you not to go after The Hog by yourself," he reminded Robin. "You nearly doomed us!" "I thought I could win," Robin grimly said, realizing he was in trouble. "You thought wrong," said Batman. "You're suspended."


	13. Deep-Seated Fear

**The Scarecrow's perspective:**

Hiding in air ducts could be uncomfortable. In fact, a normal-sized man most likely wouldn't fit in the ducts of Gotham University. But the one hundred thirty-seven pound Scarecrow could.

He had reached the vents leading to a meeting of the top minds at Gotham U or so they had everyone believing. The Scarecrow's alter ego had been fired from his post as a psychology teacher just because he understand that a dramatic style of teaching was more effective than just reading dry psychological theories from a textbook. Although except for the oddly overweight athletic director, these were intellectuals, they had to be counted among the bullies who had hounded The Scarecrow throughout his life. The ones who thought because he was comparatively odd that he could be pushed around. Well, they thought wrong.

Strapped onto The Scarecrow's back was a container and dispenser of dangerous chemicals that he called Fear Gas. He sent it slowly through the vents so as not to be found out soon enough to matter. He preferred slow and long-lasting revenge, anyway.

"So you want me to have the Mayor upgrade our football stadium?" asked Dean Ron Phillips. "Yeah, sir," said Athletic Director Reb Dockett. "Ah can get our school a lot of money with a bigger stadium and funding activities there at halftime of weekly games." "Taxpayers will fund the bill."

"If I can convince the Mayor of this," Phillips reminded him. "Money difficulties aren't the forte of jocks from the South," said Frank Rich, the head professor of Gotham U's computer division. "For your information," said Dockett, "Ah was an A- student, Mr. smart alec." "Be civil," math professor Julie Robbins suggested. "Bickering won't... what's that? Who thought it was a good idea to dress like a bad guy in a horror movie?"

 _It had begun._

"I can't see anyone like that," said Phillips. Suddenly, Dockett screamed, "Oh my God, they're killing their coach! Ah mean, I know he was tough on you kids but..."

Neither of these visions were real. Just hallucinations brought on by the Fear Gas. Before long, it had affected all of the teachers in the meeting and they were screaming out. With his deep understanding of fear and mental discipline, The Scarecrow needn't have cared if some of the Fear Gas had reached him. Alas, the same couldn't be said for the teachers. Knowledge was power.

Before long, the first heart attacks had happened. The Scarecrow loved what he saw! Like the physical bully, high school football star Bo Griggs from a decade before, these intellectual bullies had learned that you shouldn't mess with The Scarecrow.

 **Batman's perspective:**

After stopping his third crime of the night, The Batman drove to another block of town to patrol it. This gave him time to reflect. How strange. He had been doing this for well over two years before he'd accepted Robin as his partner. Now that Robin wasn't around due to suspension, Batman felt lonely.

His thoughts were interrupted by the Batsignal.

Upon driving the Batmobile near GCPD headquarters, Batman scaled the building with his Batgrapple and perched on the edge of the roof. "Yes, Commissioner?" he asked. Commissioner Gordon whipped around to face him and said, "Thankfully for my old heart, I'm just now getting used to it. Here's the autopsies." As Batman took it, Gordon added, "You'll notice that the top professors at Gotham U died of heart attacks. The photos show that they were terrified. Too many heart attacks to be an accident."

"So..." realized Batman. "They were scared to death." "Mm-hmm," confirmed Gordon. "Almost sounded like a sense of humor on your part, there." Perhaps Robin's more jovial personality was rubbing off on Batman. "I'll look into this," he promised. "Before you go," asked Gordon, "Where's the boy?" "He's suspended," answered Batman. Only way to make sure he followed Batman's rules from then on. Batman decided that he'd jump back off the roof before Gordon could ask a follow-up question.

 _Who the Hell would kill a bunch of professors?_ With lawyers, cops, and businessmen, it made sense. They make enemies. But professors? They were the people who taught your children. Sure, some of them were murdered because they were at the wrong place at the wrong time, but these victims were at a routine meeting. This had been planned. The only possibility Batman could think of was a teacher further down the pecking order who saw this as his only way to move up the ranks.

Although they called Batman The Dark Knight, he was not above underhanded means of solving a case. He had sneaked into a room at a closed Gotham U and was looking through the files of of teachers. _Nothing yet..._ maybe he should look at former teachers as well. Doing so, Batman continued to find nothing out of the ordinary until reaching the name Jonathan Crane. If his file was accurate, he was an eccentric professor who finally went too far. Crane had used a gun to demonstrate the importance of fear to his psychology students. Unfortunately, Crane had accidentally delivered a glancing shot to a young lady's cheek. It was only a paper cut but obviously required a firing. Batman had his suspect.

Following the listed address to Crane's apartment, Batman entered Crane's bedroom through the window and saw a man sleeping with his head on one pillow and under another. People _did_ exist with these unusual sleeping habits. Pulling this man up by the shirt, Batman saw that his target was not really a man but a dummy that was now spraying gas. He immediately jumped back. Didn't feel like he was affected. Just in case, he'd better inject himself with an antitoxin and get treated by Bruce Wayne's doctor, Leslie Thompkins.

Just as he was thinking that, he heard a familiar voice calling, "Bruce?" Batman turned to see that it was indeed Christie Whitlock. "Bruce, I've made my decision. I'm brought the police to take care of you once and for all, Dark Blight!" This was what Batman had feared for months. Into the room floated police officers. How could they have...

Batman fell to the ground as the bullets hit.

 **The Scarecrow's perspective:**

The Scarecrow howled in victory as he watched Batman fall victim to his Fear Gas on the monitor linked to the hidden camera in his old apartment. Figured the famous Batman would beat the police to it. Another bully suffering the same fate. For every man, woman, and child is afraid of something. Even Batman. Pity The Scarecrow hadn't seen exactly what Batman had thought he'd seen, but while Scarecrow couldn't have everything he wanted, he seemed very good at getting what he needed.

All said, it had been a great week! The man who had once been known as Jonathan Crane had killed his unfair bosses and even Batman. He just needed to get a new job to change the week from great to perfect.

 **Batman's perspective:**

When Batman came to, he took off his left glove so he could check his own pulse. It was doing the forty-yard dash. Taking a few deep breaths, he went back to searching the apartment. Eventually, he found a note on the floor. Crane must have suddenly realized that Gotham U had evidence of his motive and fled in too much of a hurry to cover all his bases. It had an address: 783 Stooler Street. That was where Batman had to go.

There was an Italian restaurant on that street that was very successful but now threatened to be shut down by a lawsuit alleging food poisoning. Batman went to the home of the owner, Mario Potamy. His wife was asleep in bed but Mario was shivering beside her, unable to sleep. "Oh, no," he said as Batman came in.

"Oh, yes."

Dragging Potamy out to the second floor hall outside the room, Batman asked, "Why are you so scared that you can't even go to sleep? It's Jonathan Crane, isn't it?"

"No," said Potamy. "It was some skinny guy dressed like a scarecrow. Gassed me and made me think the walls were closing in on my. Offered to take out the family and lawyer suing me for fifteen grand. Don't look at me like that. I was scared. Thought he might do me instead. If you only saw the eyes... the man's crazy." "Who first?" Demanded Batman.

"The bitch lawyer."

"Who's this lawyer."

"Sandy Kavacs."

"When?"

"Tomorrow night."

"What happens to you over this is not for me to decide, understand?"

"Yeah."

Batman was driving home when he saw a deer in the way and swerved away from it. He hit the brakes upon passing the deer so he could get out of the Batmobile and checked outside to see if the deer made it. It didn't look like there was a deer. Was he still affected by the gas?

Batman sensed that he was feeling the same way a lot of hoods he brought in ended up feeling. Because Crane seemed to have the exact same trump card as Batman: fear.

 _Two fearsome individuals locking horns. May the bravest man win._

Upon returning home, Alfred greeted him with "My God! You've got sweat coming down your face, Master Bruce. I'll make you some coffee immediately." Everything was suggesting that the gas Batman had breathed in was no one-hit wonder.

Sleeping in his bed, Bruce Wayne had a dream. He was in a Gotham alley in one of his Batman costumes when he heard laughter behind himself. He turned around to see, lined up from left to right, The Joker, Harley Quinn, The Catwoman, The Riddler, Becky "The Hog" Traylor, Two-Face, Killer Croc, and Christie.

"How about you hear their side of the story?" suggested Christie.

"How fitting," declared The Joker. "The little people are divided on you. Looks like you're divided too. Not as divided as I'll make you someday soon." He laughed hysterically at his own play on words.

"You actually hid that you're Christie's enemy when that mask is on?" asked Harley. "Even for a gal whose relationship is a little on the rough side, that's creepy!"

"You swore on you parents grave to wage war on crime," said Catwoman, "And all a burglar like me has to do is wear black leather to make you drool? Some hero."

"What is either the perfecting of your work or self-torment?" asked The Riddler. "Doubt. It's either a drive to correct mistakes you've made or the realization that your sins have taken you to the point of no return."

By now, Batman was horrified at what his adversaries were pointing out about him. "Admit it, little bat," said The Hog. "There's times you're tempted to chew on my fat ass, gangster or no. And the fact that Ah ain't got no figure only makes it worse, don't it."

"You preached that we should get ourselves cured of our duality issues," Two-Face reminded him, "But Christie here says you've got one hell of an issue to call your own, hypocrite!"

"I love fightin'," said Croc. "So do you. That's why you put on that mask, ain't it? It ain't your parents or justice at all. You just wanna hurt people, just as long as it's the ones they'll let you hurt."

"Tell me, Bruce," asked Christie, "Why shouldn't I send you to the very same place that you sent most of them? If nothing else, you sure aren't stopping newer and more dangerous criminals from being created."

Before Batman could answer, all of his accusers had disappeared. To take their place, a scarecrow held up by the talons of flying crows descended. "It would seem that I've beaten you at your own game," gloated this scarecrow.

 **Bruce's perspective:**

Bruce woke up, frightened and on edge. A day before, he thought of himself as an ally of fear. Now it had been turned against him.

These hallucinations may have been caused by the gas, but they were also motivated by the fact that Christie knew who he was and was unsure whether to expose his identity or not. He had to confront her and get an answer. She'd had enough time to think on this.

 _But what if she exposes me? No! Can't think like that. Have to face my fears, not feed them. And if she doesn't tell me what I want to hear, I'll face my fate with courage._

Work was Hell. There were three occasions on which Bruce hallucinated. He mistook Margaret, his secretary, for Catwoman when she arrived with files concerning a meeting. The representative of General Vehicles (GV) who Bruce was having that meeting with looked like The Joker to Bruce. And near the end of his work day, Bruce thought he saw Dr. Frankenstein's fabled monster trying to kill him.

After work, Bruce was chauffeured to Christie's house. He entered to see Christie cooking something for dinner. "Oh," she said in surprise. "Didn't expect you." "I apologize for dropping in," explained Bruce, "But it's been awhile since you said you'd think about... what you know about me now." Somehow, Bruce doubted that "I'm going mad with fear and need an answer to become sane again" would help his case.

Christie sighed. "I've been wrestling with this," she said. "The truth is, I can't look at you and see a bad man." "What makes you think that's enough?" asked Bruce. "Because I've been able to read you well enough to figure out what you do at night. If you were evil, I'd know."

"Does that mean we're a couple again?" asked Bruce. "Don't get it twisted," warned Christie. "Just because we're not enemies doesn't mean we're lovers. The truth is, I still don't like vigilante justice. But I don't think you deserve to be treated like a criminal either."

 _Good enough._

"I need more time to think about us," said Christie. "I'll let you know tomorrow, I promise."

"Have a good evening," wished Bruce, walking out. He checked his pulse. It seemed to have slowed to normal. The revelation that Christie was officially no longer after Batman had done the trick. So why didn't he feel that much better?

 **Batman's perspective:**

Batman was lying in Sandy Kavacs' bed, obscured by the covers. He knew Crane was after Sandy. No doubt planning on using those fear chemicals on her. Crane could dish horror out. The question was, could he take it?

As for Sandy, warning her theatrically had been enough for her and her husband to secretly spend the night at a friend's house. Batman could also strike fear into the hearts of the innocent. For their own good.

"Wake up, Kavacs," The Scarecrow threateningly commanded. "The Scarecrow, master of fear, has been hired to discover your greatest fear. Since you lawyers are white collar people who make your living ruining lives the legal way, having to fend for yourself physically is probably what you're about to experience. But then, life if full of surprises."

Batman immediately stood up, provoking a shriek from Scarecrow. "Case in point, Crane," agreed Batman. "Or would you prefer to be called 'Scarecrow?'" "And you're the one they call The Batman," realized The Scarecrow. "But you're really a bully like the ones from school or my superiors at the university I taught at, trying to frighten me." "Fine words from a man who's killed several people with more to come."

"Enough philosophy," said Scarecrow, drawing a pistol. Batman dodged a shot and Bataranged the gun out. Batman dived on Scarecrow and seized him in a throat lock, only for The Scarecrow to draw a skull-like gas dispenser to send fear gas his way. Batman rolled off as The Scarecrow seemed to grow larger and sprout sharp teeth.

The Scarecrow stood up and now seemed to be over eight feet tall! "I will show you fear in a handful of dust - T.S. Eliot," he quoted, then howled like a wild dog. But Batman no longer had any real fear driving this hallucination. If he could just concentrate. _Yes! He's normal-sized again._

"Showing some spine, are you?" realized Scarecrow. "I'm not defenseless without Fear Gas. There's always my violent dancing." He assumed a stance that Batman recognized as the Crane version of Kung Fu. A kick to the knee and a knee strike to the jaw drove Batman back. He blocked an open hand strike to the face but was stunned by another to the throat. A roundhouse kick had Batman on his back.

"Pick on me if you can, bully," taunted The Scarecrow as he lifted his foot above Batman's face. He caught it inches short of his face bent and wrestled it to the ground, hurting Scarecrow's knee. When they got up, Batman saw The Scarecrow limping. As Crane's Kung Fu required healthy legs, this was over. Batman moved in and delivered a right, left, knee to the hip, shoulder throw, and one last punch polished him off.

Arkham Asylum had a new patient.

 **Bruce's perspective:**

Bruce returned to Christie's home the next day. "Bruce," she said, "I'm leaving town." "What?" asked Bruce. "Why?" "As great as going out with you again and maybe getting married sounds, I've a philosophical girl. I can't be party to what you do at night."

"And I can't stop doing what I do at night," realized Bruce. Christie nodded. "For both our sakes, I've sent resumes out to other cities. I have a few offers." "Christie..." Began Bruce. "No," insisted Christie. "It can't be. We're too different. We have to stop this before..." Suddenly, they kissed. This kiss lasted four seconds.

"It wouldn't end well," Christie maintained. Bruce felt worse than when The Scarecrow's Fear Gas ran through his veins. "It was a good thing we had, wasn't it?" he tried. "Almost enough," accepted Christie. "Goodbye Bruce."

Bruce returned home, sad as can be. "What's wrong?" asked Dick. "You look like someone just shot one of the dogs." Bruce sighed. "Christie's not turning us in," he explained. "Just dumping me." "Oh, man," realized Dick. "I'm sorry." "My suspension's just about up. Maybe a little crime busting will cheer you up." "It'll be up in a couple days," corrected Bruce. "Oh, all right. The point's been made. You can come. To the Batcave!"


	14. A Riddling Competition

**The Riddler's perspective:**

The Riddler's stay at Arkham Asylum had been marked by unpredictable rages and a refusal to cooperate with the psychiatrists. But boredom took its toll. He had been denied the rec room. He finally agreed to meet with his assigned psychiatrist, Dr. Julian Peters. The day after the last interview, Dr. Peters finally had him informed that he knew what Riddler's problem was.

"Mr. Nygma," said Dr. Peters, "I originally assumed that this all went back to some childhood trauma." "I had an OK childhood," The Riddler explained halfheartedly. He really didn't care about any of this. "I know," said Dr. Peters. "With so many patients, their mental illness starts early. Not you. Still, I do believe that I've figured out who has made you so angry."

"Having to listen to you psychobabblers?" mocked The Riddler. "No," denied Dr. Peters. "Your issue is a rivalry taken too far. You feel that you were outsmarted by the one known as The Batman and..." The Riddler darted towards Dr. Peters and began shaking him by the suit lapels. "He did not outsmart me," Riddler declared. "He was lucky. Logic says he shouldn't have survived that fall into sewer water with that fuel tank weighing him down. Fate cheated me out of ultimate victory!"

"Of course it did," Dr. Peters said softly. Riddler released him. "The point is, Mr. Nygma, your rivalry with him has become too personal. Now, there's nothing wrong with a competitive drive. But you've let this go too far. We'll focus on having you forget all about your unhealthy obsession with Batman. "OK," Riddler lied. "Let's just... Ow." He clutched his stomach. "I _knew_ I shouldn't have eaten all that rich food last night." "All right," said an unconvinced Dr. Peters. "To the infirmary we go. Just remember, it's a week straight in the cell if you're only pretending to be sick."

The Riddler was having his vital signs checked by medical Dr. Branson Forrester when the former reached into his patient scrubs to draw the taser he'd pick-pocketed from the guard who took him to Dr. Peters and zapped Forrester with it. Taking off his clothes and replacing them with Dr. Forrester's, the Riddler sneaked out of the infirmary carefully. Since there weren't many of the psychiatrists and menial laborers who knew many of the medics, he could walk carefully through Arkham. There was one janitor who asked, "Isn't that a little big on you?" "Yes, I think I've lost quite enough weight" was enough to satisfy him.

The only remotely challenging part was trying to find the keycard. He had to dig through the various cards in Dr. Forresters' wallet before he found the right one. Of course, with no way of knowing whose car was Forresters', it was a long walk to Gotham. At least once there, Forresters' cash and credit cards were available for the purchase of The Riddler's new suit and the rescue of two criminals in distress. How generous of the good doctor.

But first, The Riddler would leave Batman a little surprise.

 **Batman's perspective:**

"So you're saying The Riddler busted loose?" asked Robin in the Batmobile. "Yes," affirmed Batman. "One thing," said Robin. "Who is he?"

"He's an extremely crafty and dangerous criminal," explained Batman. "Leaves riddles that hint at where his next crime will be committed." "I'm sorry to contradict my elders," said Robin. "But how can he be smart if he's deliberately leaving clues?" Batman thought for a second. "You have a point there, Robin. It does reek of 'what the Hell are you thinking?' But he gave me a hard time when I crossed swords with him. Don't take him lightly."

Upon arriving at Arkham, Batman and Robin noticed words written on the wall outside of the institution:

What does no child want to be but  
every child want you to believe he  
or she is?

"That's easy," said Robin. "A kid doesn't want to be sick, but if you think he or she is, they don't have to go to school." "Well done, Robin," said Batman, who hadn't seemed to be as quick to catch on. "Guess it's easier when it hasn't been that long since you pretended to be sick to get out of school," Robin realized.

"So that was his escape plan," said Batman. "Fat lot of good knowing that does us," sighed Robin. "On the contrary," said Batman. "Never underestimate the value of practice."

 **The Riddler's perspective:**

Waiting in his car, The Riddler hit the detonators of two bombs he'd left just outside Gotham City Women's Penitentiary. He waited a bit until the lovely ladies arrived.

"Thanks Eddie," said the blonde-haired Query. "Hit the gas," the Chinese Echo suggested once the two women were in the car. _The Prince of Puzzlers and his lady knights are reunited._ _Time to shoot down a bat and bird._

 **Batman's perspective:**

Batman and Robin had driven to Gotham City Women's Penitentiary, where Detectives Harvey Bullock and Renee Montoya were investigating two blown up cells. "Who did this?" asked Batman. "Witnesses say they saw a dude in green pajamas lettin' 'em into his car," Bullock informed him. "Say no more," smiled Robin.

"No," said Montoya. "There's something important. These riddles." She showed him two green pieces of paper the size of framed portraits with question marks and writing on them. "'Why did I convert from Christianity?'" Batman read one of them. "'Cause he doesn't believe in it, duh!" realized Robin. "We didn't need you to figure that out," said Bullock cautiously. "If your tone implies that you think this is too easy," Batman figured him out, "Then I agree."

"How about the other one?" offered Robin. "'Why did I need to score a touchdown?'" "That one isn't so easy," realized Batman. "Let's ponder these riddles elsewhere, Robin." The Detectives waved goodbye.

Back in the Batcave, Batman and Robin searched on the Internet for non-Christian groups. It looked like The Riddler was robbing one of them. "I believe I've found his next victims," theorized Batman. "The Cult of Reason is a Gotham-based atheist group." "They're doing something that has to do with sports?" asked Robin. "No," said Batman. "Their leaders are speaking at another group's headquarters. This group is called Relationship Assistance Center Gotham." "That's what he means by 'score a touchdown?'" realized Robin. "God, that's corny!" "Get used to it," suggested Batman.

"So when during that event is he striking?" asked Robin. "That's the real trick, isn't it?" Batman saw the problem. "He's obsessed with proving that he's smarter than me, so he had to have included... Touchdown! That's the key word. It's at 7:00. The third of the five hours that this event runs through."

After Batman and Robin changed into street clothes and were halfway up the stairs into Wayne Manor, Robin snapped his fingers. "It's not 7:00." "Isn't a touchdown worth seven points in American football?" asked Batman. "That's what he wants us to think," said Robin. "Here's where the word conversion comes into play. The touchdown and two-point conversion are worth eight points. Clever." "What did I tell you?" Batman reminded him.

 **Bruce's perspective:**

Another day at the company Bruce Wayne owned was rather boring. At least if felt boring compared to what lay ahead. Had to focus on work. The financial future of hundreds of thousands of people depended on him. That was the immediate priority.

 **Dick's perspective:**

"Why aren't you working on the test?" asked Mrs. Ingraham, Dick's math teacher. Dick did so. Couldn't daydream in class. Bruce said that he expected at least an A- average.

But compared to this, having a meeting with an archcriminal like The Riddler ahead could be quite distracting.

The night finally came. Bruce and Dick were disguised as a middle-class father and son. Eventually, The Riddler, Query, and Echo arrived with guns. "Relax," said Riddler. "We're not sticks in the mud looking to ruin anyone's relationships, nor do we want to oppress non-believers Caesar style. This is just a stickup. We're indiscriminate in our demands for either money or lives, I promise!"

"We can't wait any longer," whispered Bruce to Dick before they sneaked outside and into the Batmobile to change into attires more appropriate for crimefighting.

 **Batman's perspective:**

Since there were so many people in the large room that The Riddler and his henchwomen were pilfering, The Dynamic Duo really couldn't ambush them. Next best things were the elements of surprise and fear. "End of the line," warned Batman as he and Robin entered the room. Two Batarangs knocked the guns out of Query and Echo's hands, but Riddler dodged the third and fired upon The Caped Crusaders. They had no choice but to hide behind chairs and tables that provided limited cover and concealment.

"So they weren't lying," realized Riddler as his women reclaimed their guns. "You _do_ have a little friend." "Cute kid," Query had to admit. "Uh," said Echo, "He's underage." "And cute," said Query. "You girls are pretty yourselves," said Robin. "I'm sure you've just been manipulated and taken advantage of by a crazy guy, but that's for the jury to decide."

"I know what you're planning," said The Riddler. "It's really hard to hit you between your agility, cover, and partial concealment. We'd probably run out of bullets trying. But there's a lot of people we can easily shoot." "Chicken," Robin began clucking. "Robin," Batman explained another Riddler characteristic, "He doesn't care." "Truer words were never spoken," said Riddler. "Chivalry is for idiots. Now let us go or have dozens of deaths on your consciences." "Let them go," ordered Batman. The Riddler, Query and Echo slowly walked out with the bags of money that they had stolen, guns aimed at bystanders until the reached the door, then bolted out. "After them," ordered Batman.

By the time Batman and Robin got out of Relationship Assistance Center Gotham, The Riddler, Query, and Echo had sped away by car. "We've lost them," kicked Robin in frustration. "Be positive," said Batman. "Maybe the Batnavicomputer can find them." So they got in the Batmobibile to check the Batnavicomputer. "Yes," relished Batman, pointing to a car on the computer screen. "That car is going much faster than the others. That's them. They haven't escaped yet."

As the Batmobile pursued, Batman had a chance to say, "Whatever you do, don't return that lady's affections. Even if she weren't too old for you, she's on the wrong side of the law." "You think I'd forget she's an enemy just because she's got a pretty face and long blonde hair?" asked Robin. "Yes," Batman said simply. He'd himself been tempted more than once. He definitely had to watch out for a undisciplined sixteen-year-old boy.

Several seconds passed with no response from Robin to Batman's lack of trust. "Since you're not acting all upset that I'm not trusting you on this," Batman put two and two together, "I'm guessing that I'm right to be concerned. Just remember the mission."

Soon enough, what seemed to be The Riddler's car appeared to have parked. Looking inside, Batman and Robin saw that no one was in it. "So they realized that a normal car can't escape the Batmobile," Batman stated the obvious. "Smart thinking on their part. Not that it helps much. You hop between buildings on the right side of the road. I've got the left. They stand out in that green spandex and backpacks. If they're hiding inside, one of these places will close and they'll be thrown out and be ours. If you find them before me, call them out. Don't try to catch them by yourself."

"What if they're in a 24/7 place?" asked Robin. "Only two or three of those you can quickly get to from here on foot.," Batman pointed out. "Any way you look at it, we're in control."

 **The Riddler's perspective:**

"They're on rooftops," said Echo, who was watching inside a building with binoculars. "I knew they would be," bragged The Riddler. "Now we can't escape without making them aware. But who said we were running? Get the tranquilizers out of the packs."

They entered the building that Robin was on and walked up the flights of stairs. They climbed out of the highest windows to take aim. Three darts hit Robin and he fell to the ground. He tried to call out to Batman but not very loudly. He must not have realized how much the tranquilizers had weakened him. Taken advantage of this, The Riddler, Query, and Echo all rushed and grabbed Robin, placing a hand of Riddler's over his mouth so he couldn't try to call for help again.

"Even more handsome close up," gushed Query. "Business before pleasure," Riddler verbally held her back. "Might I add that you're sick, Query?" asked Echo. "Mm-hmm," Query proudly conceded.

"No unmasking either," said Riddler. "We're giving his mentor a fair chance to rescue him... or die trying." Upon hearing this, Robin struggled even harder. "Don't bother," mocked Riddler as he reached into his backpack to slap together his next riddle. "You've gotten enough tranquilizer to put down a rhino!." Sure enough, Robin seemed to be struggling to even keep his eyes open.

 **Robin's perspective:**

A little shaking stirred up Robin enough to open his eyes. It was Query, smiling at him. Robin found that his ankles were tied together and another rope kept his hands behind his back. "Try not to have sex with the kid," Robin heard The Riddler say from the side. "I'll do my best," chuckled Query as she stroked Robin's hair. "Not that I'm not ashamed to have so little a problem with this," said Robin, "But Batman says I can't." "Who do you think's coming after you?" asked Echo. Robin went from reluctantly resisting to scared. "Yes, Robin," taunted The Riddler. "A black and gray fish is coming up to the surface and you're the worm. In fact, Query, stop 'molesting' him. I'd rather the brat feel guilt than pleasure."

Query groaned as she walked away. "I'll fix you up with a sexy twenty-something tomorrow," promised Riddler. "Just do as you're told."

The Riddler was right. Robin feared he was going to get Batman killed! He just had to hope Riddler's trap didn't work or it would be all Robin's fault. What a way to end a crimefighting career.

 **Batman's perspective:**

After a couple hours of looking, stores began to close. Time to search the only places that never closed. He looked at the rooftop on the other side of the road. No Robin. Had he disregarded... no! There was a large note taped to the roof.

Swinging over to the building with the note, Batman picked it up and read, "Why is my scam operation by boat?" Because it was a riverfront operation. Was The Riddler getting cocky? That was way too easy.

It became obvious why this riddle was so easy as Batman kept reading: "P.S., better hurry or I can't guarantee the kid's life." This was worse than a hard riddle. Even a dunce could see that this was a trap. Yet Batman had to walk into it. Or Robin would be dead in hours.

Batman drove to the nearest waterfront. There was a fat sailor tied to a chair. Untying him, Batman asked, "Did you see a man and two women in green, question mark-laden spandex with a costumed boy come here?" "Sure did," said the sailor. "Told me to tell ya dat dere in dat boat." He pointed to a nearby yacht. "Thanks," said Batman, knowing that this was too perfect a setup. "Anytime," the sailor ran away.

Entering the yacht and its main cabin, Batman saw Robin bound and gagged on the floor. He looked terrified as Batman advanced. Either he feared death or knew just that the trap was about to be sprung. Batman took off the gag. "Run," Robin cried. "It's a..." he was interrupted as the roof caved in and Batman shielded both of them from the falling boards with his protective cape and costume. Soon to come down on them was a large square cage. They couldn't move now. "...Trap," Robin finally finished faintly.

Now it was The Riddler, Query and Echo's turn to drop in on them. They pointed guns at them from outside the cage. Batman and Robin couldn't move the heavy cage without becoming sitting ducks and their enemies otherwise had all the time in the world. They were screwed.

"We told you we'd get you," gloated The Riddler. "Didn't give me much choice but to step into your trap," Batman defended himself. "I know," chuckled Riddler.

"You've no right to complain after taking months of our lives away," said Query. "Prison is Hell," complained Echo. "Bad food, treated like a slave. At least Eddie got sympathy and a rec room. We're really gonna enjoy this."

"Let the boy live," implored Batman. "He's in training. I doubt he can catch you without me." "If you're to die tonight..." Robin began. "Quiet," Batman shut him up.

"Alas," said Riddler, "This could end up like those movies in which a kid watches his parents die and grows up wanting revenge on the killers in his old age." "I agree," said Echo. "Let's not take any chances."

"You'd kill a child in cold blood?" asked Batman. "I expect that from absolute psychopaths like The Joker and Scarface, but I didn't think you stood quite that low."

"Shut the Hell up," said The Riddler. "Don't act you didn't know this could happen when you brought a kid into this. Take your 'moral high ground' and shove it up your ass." Batman couldn't argue with that. "Sorry, handsome," Query finally said to Robin. "I'd bring you along, but I'm outvoted. You shouldn't have screwed with us."

They were cocking their guns. Batman had to think fast! "I hope every time you gloat about this," he said, "You let it be known that you had to use my partner to force me into a trap I saw coming a mile away!" "You're a sore loser," The Riddler said with annoyance. But that annoyance told Batman that he was on the right track.

"You never outsmarted me," said Batman. "You only coerced me. That's no way to win." "That's not how it works," said Riddler. "You lost. I won." "He's outsmarted guys who make you look like a street punk," taunted Robin. "You played with his head so you didn't have to win the fight you wanted to."

"Oh, no, you don't," Echo said to Riddler. "He's hitting your ego to give him a chance to escape. Don't give it to him." "It didn't work," Query told Batman. "The Joker had a mole who kept breaking him out that I never spotted until they tried to kill us," Batman recollected. "Therefore, at least one criminal in town has outsmarted me, but you never have."

By now, The Riddler was very, very angry. "That's it," he yelled. "You think you're smarter than me? I have more intelligence in a brain cell than both of your bodies combined! I'll prove it!" "No," exclaimed Echo. "It's a trick!" "I'm begging you," pleaded Query. "Don't bite the cliche bullet." But The Riddler didn't look like he was listening. He was in macholand. "Either of you shoot them without them trying to get out of the cage, they're the first two to go." He got out of his backpack a military explosive and climbed onto the cage and placed the bomb in the middle.

Dropping back down to the floor, The Riddler pressed a button on a remote control and said, "That pressure-activated bomb will go off after ten minutes or after it feels the slightest vibration, whichever comes first. No way out. I've proven myself to be the smarter one after all, haven't I?"

When the archcriminal and his hired ladies were gone, Robin said, "I'm sorry I made a mess of things." "It's my fault," Batman apologized. "I shouldn't have left you alone. Besides, recriminating does nothing to get us out of this." "If we move it carefully," said Robin, "maybe we won't get blown to bits." "Forget it," said a skeptical Batman. "There can't even be a vibration along the cage, remember?" "You're right," Robin now remembered. "He's killed us!" "Not yet," said Batman. "If there's a way out, we'll find it."

Sure enough, such a way occurred to him. "A bomb that advanced might be computerized," he realized. Taking the Battablet from his belt, he tried to hack into the bomb, only to snap his fingers upon realizing that the bomb's codes was changing every few seconds.

"What's wrong?" asked Robin. "Its code changes every so often." He handed the Battablet to Robin and added, "On your back." Robin layed down and Batman did the same and drew his Batgrapple. "We can't stop the bomb exploding, but if our timing is right, we might be able to disable it just long enough for it to blow up high enough above the cage for us to survive. Hack into, turn it off and tell me when to launch it into the air with my Batgrapple."

Four minutes passed. "Now," yelled Robin. "Batman fired the Batgrapple. For a moment, the bomb was pushed into the air. Then it exploded. This sent bits of cage raining onto Batman and Robin. Getting up, Batman held his hand out. "You OK, Robin?" he asked. "OK enough to show them how much we like mad bombers," Robin said, taking his hand. "Took the words right out of my mouth," agreed Batman.

 **The Riddler's perspective:**

The Riddler was euphoric. Query and Echo were not. "Eddie," said Query. "They'll get away. I just know it." "Let us go back and shoot 'em," suggested Echo. "You don't even have to be there for them to..." then they heard the bomb go off. "You were saying?" asked Riddler.

A bit down the road, Query asked, "Can we go back just to make sure they're dead?" "No," exhaled The Riddler. "I'd hate to be find out the hard way," Echo seconded Query. "Women," said Riddler. "You're all hysterical worrywarts. Here's what we're gonna do. First, we celebrate at home till we drop. Then we get the 'sad' news tomorrow that Batman and Robin have been found dead. Then we start picking the town..." A jerk of the car cut Riddler off. Everyone looked in his rear view mirror to see that the Batmobile's power winch had hooked and stopped the car.

"Toldja so! Toldja so!" Query and Echo scolded The Riddler in unison. "Shut up and help me cook Guano and Birdbrain for dinner," commanded Riddler. "They haven't won anything yet."

 **Robin's perspective:**

"You attack on the left side," directed Batman. "I'll take the right. Just remember not to be distracted by the pretty face." It just so happened that Query and Echo were on the left side Robin charged and threw two Batarangs at the female criminals' hands to make them drop their guns, then leapt at and kicked them with both legs. As they stood up to their knees, Robin whipped out a pair of Batbolas and quickly spun and launched them, binding the ladies.

This distraction gave Robin time to push Query and Echo back down to their backs before the could get to their feet. "On the plus side," joked Robin to Query, "I should be old enough to consent by the time you get out." Query's response was to spit on Robin's costume. "Hey, don't be mad at me," Robin laughed. "I'm not possessive. I just think that armed robbery's gotta be punished."

 **Batman's perspective:**

The Riddler was holding a cane with a "?" head. "You fight with that?" asked Batman. Riddler pointed the foot of the cane at Batman, pushed the head, and a long blade thrusted out of the foot. It was now almost like a spear. "Never mind," Batman recognized his mistake.

Knowing that Batman's costume was armored, The Riddler began thrusting at his face. But after the fifth miss, Batman had the chance to grab the wooden part of the cane and used it to slam Riddler against his own car. A headbutt had him falling to the ground and without the strength to stop Batman from taking the cane out of his hands and tossing it aside. "Girls," Riddler cried for help. "Found 'em for ya," Robin called out from the side. Riddler sighed as he looked to see that Robin had bound the arms of Query and Echo. "I give up," The Riddler finally acknowledged defeat. "Please don't kill us." "You're right to be afraid," Batman snarled to a gulp from Riddler. "But we're not like you."

Instead, Batman and Robin tied The Riddler, Query, and Echo together and strung them on a nearby lamppost. Getting off Query's phone, Batman said, "Police are on their way. Bad night!" "You may have won this round..." began the Riddler. "Shut up," demanded an upset Echo. "You have no right to an 'I'll be back' speech." "Why not?" asked Riddler. "Because they were dead," explained Query. "We were about to feed them lead burgers. Then along comes your fragile male ego to screw everything up." "Don't see us again for the next nine months," said Echo. "That's how long it'll take us to cool off." "But girls..." tried Riddler. "Don't you 'girls' me," screamed both Query and Echo.

Robin couldn't help but laugh at this. "You're in trouble now, Riddler," he saw. "You don't wanna see a girl in a bad mood. Believe me, I know." "Let's go, Robin," said Batman. After they'd driven a bit, he asked, "Girl in a bad mood?" "Just a little heartbreak Dick Grayson had not long ago," Robin said. "You understand." "Bruce Wayne does," Batman recalled his recent breakup with Christie Whitlock.

 **The Riddler's perspective:**

It wasn't until the next morning that The Riddler realized that Query and Echo had been right. He'd long laughed at the cliched movie villains who got cocky and took unnecessary chances that doomed them. Now he'd done the exact same thing. _How can a genius be a fool? When he's a court jester, like I was last night. Damn me!_


	15. Enter Batgirl

**Barbara Gordon's perspective, three months ago:**

Barbara, little brother Jimmy, and their father, Commissioner James Gordon, were looking over photos and news headlines of the latest big crime that James had copied on his computer. Because the Gordons had a great interest in law enforcement, Jim created personal records on all the big cases in town.

"Looks like something out of the turtle show," said Barbara of the pictures of Killer Croc. "You watch that?" asked Jimmy. "Different version when I was little," explained Barbara. "He's no good guy," clarified James. "He was a wrestler. Didn't like how a match was set to go, so he killed his boss with his super strength."

"And The Batman got him?" asked Barbara. "Don't ask how he did it," said James, "But somehow, some way, he did." "I'm really not surprised," smiled Barbara. "You always taught us to never give up." "That's my girl who said that," James patted her on the head. "Just remember. I don't want a policewoman's life for you. You're gonna be a computer whiz. You'll make people's lives easier without risking your own."

"I know," said Barbara. Just as well. The Batman seemed to be making a greater difference without a badge anyway. Perhaps Barbara should follow his example. True, her father probably wouldn't approve. But he specifically disallowed joining the force. That was it. So technically, Barbara could put on a costume instead of a uniform if she wanted to. And she really wanted to contribute to the war on crime like her father did.

Of course, even with her late mother having long since taught her how to sew, there were a lot of preparations for that. At least as a gymnast in school, Barbara was already in shape.

 **Mikey's perspective, present day:**

Mikey Lavielle was a nineteen-year-old janitor at Arkham Asylum. He needed a part-time job to afford his Gotham U education. Being young, he loved cool music, so he constantly wore a headset plugged into his phone so he could listen to songs as he worked. It wasn't exactly allowed everywhere in Arkham, but nobody who had seen him listening to music while working had seemed to care.

But one day, he was entering a restricted area of the institute when he heard a "Hey!" behind him. Mikey turned around. It was a guard. "What the Hell do you think you're doin'?" asked the guard.

Mikey's heart sank as he walked out of the area. "I'm supposed to clean this place," Mikey tried in vain to distract the guard. "Not that, idiot," Mikey was ridiculed. He knew where this was going. He'd have to surrender the headset and not listen to music.

But instead of demanding the headset, the guard pointed to the side. Mikey saw a sign that read, "DANGER! Wear one of these in here." Attached to the sign were four hooks with gas masks hanging on them. "Oh," Mikey sighed in relief. He put on a mask and went back into the restricted area.

As he walked past the lone cell in this area, he heard a female voice call, "Hey," from inside the cell. He kept mopping the floor. "I said hey," reminded the voice. Mikey wasn't listening to any of these psychos.

"Didn't your daddy teach you to treat women with more respect than this?" asked the female inmate. Mikey looked at the cell window. It was a red-haired woman. And a gorgeous one at that. _Be strong._

"Leave me alone," demanded Mikey. "I shouldn't be talking to the likes of you." "You shouldn't be listening to music either," the woman reminded him.

"Don't nitpick me."

"Or smoke weed. Or download music and movies off the Internet. Or flirt with girls in college when you're already with Nicole."

That got Mikey's attention. Walking over to the cell door, he asked, "How come you know all that?" The woman smiled. "They have computers in the rec room. Plus, I have a brain in this sexy body. Poison Ivy." "Mikey Lavielle," Mikey introduced himself. "What do you want? It better not be anything illegal." "I'm so alone," Ivy said sadly. "I want human contact. Be a pal and put your hand on the window, OK?" Couldn't hurt. Mikey placed his right hand on the window. Ivy put up her own right hand so it met Mikey's on the other side of the glass. A literally hot sensation flowed through Mikey's body. He'd been tricked! "Just relax," suggested Ivy. "You know you want this. So take it."

And Mikey did. He sighed hard to take in the pleasure he was feeling. "You want to let me out of here, don't you?" Mikey's better judgment told him that he had to at least refuse Ivy that, but he found himself nodding. "Then carefully get the keycard from the guard's right pocket. I can take it from there."

Mikey was sneaking behind the guard. He had long since learned to pick pockets for childhood pranks, which must have been why Ivy had chosen him. He got the keycard off the guard's belt and used it to open Ivy's cell. As the door opened and made a sound in doing so, Mikey turned to the guard, who asked, "I'm not gonna waste time asking what the Hell you're doing. You just stay there and don't do any other stupid shit."

But by now, Poison Ivy had already ran out of her cell and at the guard, kissing him. Mikey felt very jealous. He knew he shouldn't. He just couldn't help it.

After a a minute of kissing the guard, Ivy released him and he fell, dead from Ivy's toxic skin. Mikey was shocked! "You... you just... you just..." Mikey was trying to process what he had just seen. Ivy nodded. "If you're thinking of calling for help," she gave him strong medicine known as reality, "They'll know that you were an accessory. Just get back to work. I can take it from here and we'll both be free. See you tomorrow in your dorm. And you better be there! I hate being stood up. You got that?" "Yeah," Mikey said under his breath.

 _What have I gotten myself into?_

 **Batman's perspective:**

"Is this the place?" Batman asked a frightened criminal. He nodded. Batman delivered a few punches to knock him out. "Let's crack the crackhouse," suggested Robin.

They jumped in through a window and started pummeling criminals. Drug dealers could be crafty, but they tended to not be good in a fight. Within two minutes it was over.

Batman and Robin only left the one who looked like the boss. "You the head of this illicit business?" asked Batman. He nodded. "What can you tell us about the mob unions?" asked Robin. "Some," said the boss. "But I'd rather take my chances with you freaks than those homies." Batman punched him in the face. "Turn my face inta a diamond ring if ya want. I ain't killin' myself."

Batman got in his face. "What makes you think _we_ won't kill you?" he asked. "'Cause if you would," reasoned the boss, "You'd have done da fat inbred bitch from da South by now." He must have been referring to Becky "The Hog" Traylor, who Batman still hadn't gotten anything on. Batman had long ago sworn to never kill. But he never imagined that this rule would be a handicap. _No! Can't think like that._

After the drug dealers were arrested by the police and the Caped Crusaders were driving away, Robin said, "At least we stopped them." Batman nodded and checked the police radio. "Calling all cars," Batman and Robin heard. "The eco-terrorist known as Poison Ivy has escaped from Arkham Asylum and is on the loose. She is to be considered extremely dangerous."

"You know her?" Robin seemed to realize. "Unfortunately, yes," revealed Batman. "Like The Joker and Riddler, I've put her away before. That's the third of these arch-criminals who has escaped." "Well, you taught me that the most import thing was to never give up." "If only they could turn that in the right direction," Batman lamented.

 **Poison Ivy's perspective:**

The very next afternoon, the environmental idealogue who had once been Pamela Isley entered Mikey's dormitory by climbing up the outside windowsills and breaking through the glass to Mikey's room. Expensive window, but it was Gotham U's problem now. Ivy looked around. No Mikey. _Might as well get comfortable._ She sat on Mikey's couch, rested her feet on his coffee table, and turned on the TV.

Eventually, Ivy heard the door open and looked to see who it was. Mikey. "I keep my promises, cutie-pie," said Ivy. Mikey looked less than happy to see her. It was time to change that.

Ivy walked towards Mikey, pheromones released. Mikey didn't seem to know if he wanted to kiss or run. "I don't bite," Ivy assured him. "Well, maybe just a little. But you're much too cute and useful for me to bite with poison." Ivy advanced towards him and touched his chest. "That's right, Mikey," Ivy encouraged. "Feel the 'electricity.' You're at the age where you're supposed to lose control, after all." Mikey moaned in pleasure and Ivy kissed him. He was now smiling. "Onto the couch we go," she suggested.

When they were sitting down, Ivy put her feet back on the coffee table. Looked like Mikey was hers, but it was best not to take any chances. Any gardener knew the importance of patience. "Your head has a home here," Ivy said, patting her own lap. Mikey lay on his side, resting his head on her lap. Ivy stroked his neck for a few minutes. By this point, Mikey was purring like a cat.

"Do you have any friends?" asked Ivy. "Yeah," said Mikey. "Why not invite them over? A college party, if you will." "What about girls?" asked Mikey. "They'll do," allowed Ivy. It may have been difficult to exert the same control over them as men, but if they had the friend gene, they could help.

 **Batgirl's perspective:**

After practicing Batrope swings, Batarang (hers' looked less polished than Batman's but would probably be effective) throwing, and hand-to-hand combat, Barbara, now in her Batgirl costume, was ready for first contact. It wasn't too long before, on the ground below, she saw a man getting threatened by a mugger.

Suddenly, Batgirl found herself frozen with fear. What if she couldn't survive this? He had a revolving pistol. One mistake and it would all be over. Maybe despite her months of preparation, she hadn't really thought this through. She steeled herself and slid to the ground on a Batrope with grappling hook.

Batgirl walked behind the mugger from behind, hoping he'd see her shadow and be intimidated. "This is all?" asked the mugger. "I'm not a wealthy man and I don't use credit," explained the victim. "That's just too bad," said the mugger, cocking the gun. _Looks like I came just in time._ Suddenly, the mugger saw the shadow of someone with long, pointed ears and spun around.

"That's a relief," said the mugger. "It ain't The Bat, just some wannabe. And a girl at that. Yeah, a girl, not a woman. You're no older than my son." "Not _just_ a girl," corrected Batgirl. "The Batgirl. By the way, if you've got a boy why aren't you supporting him? "I am," said the mugger, taking aim.

Enough jawing. Batgirl hopped to the side so it would take a little longer for the mugger's gun to point at her. That was long enough to toss a Batarang at him. The mugger grunted in pain as the Batarang hit his shoulder, but Batgirl was no happier about it. She meant to hit the gun or hand to disarm him. Must have been rookie jitters. But she couldn't afford that. This was life or death!

Batgirl ducked a shot but felt a glance and scrape on her left cheek after a second shot. Another thrown Batarang disarmed the man. The gun went flying to the side and the mugger ran after it, but Batgirl cut him off. "OK," said the thug. "I'd rather have you alive, anyway." "What a model family man you are," Batgirl said sarcastically. She dodged two punches and responded with a pair of snap kicks to the jaw. Batgirl pressed her advantage with a kick to the left knee and a right cross and reverse elbow to the face. A roundhouse kick and that was that.

Batgirl turned to the victim, who looked nervous. "Embarrassed to be rescued by a girl?" she asked. The victim nodded. "That's OK," Batgirl forgave him. "I'm still glad I did it. A dead man can't become more enlightened. You can start by taking this female advice: get yourself a credit card. The boring procedures are worth it in the long run."

Batgirl had her first collar. She was now a costumed crime-fighter in her own right. Except that this was as ugly a victory as it got. Feeling the scrape on her cheek reminded Batgirl that she had misfired her first Batarang and almost been shot dead. Just an inch more to her right and there would have been no "almost." But she could improve. She just had to not choke under the pressure of a real fight again.

 **Poison Ivy's perspective:**

It was a great party. Why? Ivy had charmed all the attendants. Every boy loved her and every girl thought of her as one of their bestest best friends, even if the girls were a little slower to come around.

"I want you to know, Pam, that you can be yourself," promised Mikey. "Thank you," said Ivy. Accordingly, it was time for the war to save the planet to continue. She had the gang to do it.

 **Batman's perspective:**

A bit of patrolling for Ivy and stopping unrelated crimes on the way happened before Batman and Robin heard on the Batmobile's police radio, "Calling all cars, there's a mob attack on the Gotham Central Mall. The leader of this operation has been identified as the eco-terrorist known as Poison Ivy." "Clever woman," recalled Batman.

"I wouldn't doubt you," Robin explained himself, "Except that it's a wide-open crime," said Batman. "The police will be there soon." "Won't they shoot Ivy and her creeps?" asked Robin.

"Not if they're not armed."

"Oh, right. They can't shoot unarmed men."

"Uh-huh. They have to enter Ivy's pheromone range to stop this. Time to give the Commissioner a call."

Picking up the car phone and Battablet, Batman called Commissioner Gordon with the Battablet jamming the police tracer. "Since I'm not getting any indication of where you are, I'm either talking to The Batman or a criminal." "The former," assured Batman. "Call off your hunt for Poison Ivy. Few of them can resist her. You will only increase the size of her mob. We'll take care of this."

After a long pause, Gordon said, "This isn't exactly how they teach you in the academy, but we'll try it. One hour, Batman." "Fair enough," Batman accepted these terms. Hanging up, Batman told Robin, "We have an hour to take her down. We better make the most of it. I have gas masks that will shield us from Ivy's pheromones. Just don't let Ivy touch you."

They arrived at Gotham Central Mall. Opening the front shield of the Batmobile, Batman ran into the mall entrance. "Hurry," he ordered Robin to follow. "We don't have time to plan this bust. Ivy has to have too many men already.

Sure enough, as Batman and Robin reached the food court, They spotted Ivy and her seduced army. "Ah," Ivy recognized Batman. "The champion of the Earth killers has arrived. And he's brought a squire. Beat 'em until I don't need pheromones to add them to our ranks."

Ivy's army charged. It looked like at least forty men and ten women. "Lenses over the eyes," directed Batman. "Batarangs at the lights." Batman and Robin hit the pads on the sides of their masks to activate their nightvision lenses, then started throwing Batarangs at nearby lights, fleeing from the army all the while. The room grew darker and darker as each light was broken. The Batarang to the last light came from far away. Batman checked to see who had thrown that last Batarang. He was dressed like him. No, not he. _She._ Must have been the so-called Batgirl who had made the news over the prior twenty-four hours.

With their enemies blinded, Batman, Robin, and the new amateur (who was now wearing nightvision glasses) were able to use hit-and-run tactics to slowly whittle down their enemies' numbers. It wasn't long before Ivy seemed to realize that she had been thwarted and retreated towards the exit. The Caped Crusaders hadn't destroyed any lights outside of the food court so Ivy could escape that way. "I got her," said Batgirl. "No," yelled Batman. "This doesn't involve..." Two of Ivy's men heard and grabbed him from behind. It took a few seconds for Batman two wrestle them to the ground and punch them out. Too late to beat Batgirl to Ivy now. _Perfect!_

 **Batgirl's perspective:**

Batgirl was feeling a combination of joy and fulfillment. She was helping to stop one of the biggest and worst crimes in Gotham history and about to catch the boss of that operation! That felt very fun and very good. But that wasn't the important thing. She had to remember to focus on the job.

As Poison Ivy reached the sidewalk just outside the Mall, Batgirl decked her with a flying kick from behind. Pulling her up to her knees by the hair, Batgirl said, "As much as I hate to do this to an environmentalist and fellow redhead, you've got personal issues to work out." "Work this out," said Ivy, lightly scratching Batgirl across the face. "You call that a punch?" she mocked. But no sooner had she said that before she was taking a few steps back and clutching the spot that Ivy had scratched.

"No," said Ivy as Batgirl dropped to her hands and knees. "I call that my name. "When you get to Hell, tell Satan to only send his best planet ruiners after me, rookie!" As Ivy fled, Batgirl stood up and tried to pursue, but the poison had grown too strong, causing her to fall back over.

 **Batman's perspective:**

After Batman's right hand knocked out the last attacker, he ran back towards the mall entrance and said to Robin, "This way! A woman's life is at stake!"

Batman and Robin left the mall to see Batgirl groaning in pain on the sidewalk. Batman drew a needle out of his belt. "This is an antitoxin," he explained as he injected it into Batgirl's neck. "How long did she touch you?" asked Batman. "Is it important?" asked Batgirl. Batman nodded. "She scratched me one time," recalled Batgirl.

Batman had been on the receiving end of Ivy's poisons and had required a doctor to survive. Only a scratch might just need the antitoxin Batgirl had received. "Get the ultrasound," Batman ordered Robin. After he had captured Ivy, Batman had gotten an ultrasound machine and kept it in the trunk of the Batmobile just in case this happened again. Using the ultrasound on Batgirl, Robin said, "Looks like that poison is dying down fast! Think you're ready to help us, Batgirl?"

"Yeah," affirmed Batgirl. "I've got a score to settle." "You two seem to be under the impression that Batgirl's coming." "Why not?" asked both Batgirl and Robin. "She screwed up here," said Batman. "And it's not just here. I'd heard of her. Last night, she's said to have misfired those things she's calling Batarangs. That's where that came from." Batman pointed to the scrape on Batgirl's left cheek "A little more to one side... This is her second strike."

"Don't I get one more strike?" asked Batgirl. "No," Batman denied her. "Not in this line of work. You're making too many mistakes young, lady." "Was I any different when I started doing this?" asked Robin. Instead of answering, Batman told Robin, "I've seen people like her before. Think I'm cool and think all this takes is football pads, cheap weapons, and guts. You know what happens? They're all dead in a week! And _I_ have some responsibility for that. I won't let another person die because we make this look easy."

"I'm not like them," insisted Batgirl. "I'm well-trained and schooled. and don't blame yourself for inspiring others." "You had a chance to prove you belonged with us," Batman said firmly. "You failed. Go home, madam." Batgirl sadly walked away and Batman saw a note taped to the hood of the Batmobile:

Meet me at dorm 237 at Gotham U, stud-muffins! With more  
love than you boys can possibly handle, Poison Ivy!

By the time the Batmobile got back on the highway, Batman saw that Robin was unhappy about all this. "Are you desperate for a date?" asked Batman. "That army Ivy built," Robin reminded Batman. "The Joker's new partner. These returning arch-criminals are learning from their mistakes. We need all the help we can get. You shouldn't have forced her to leave." "That young woman is incompetent," said Batman. "Incompetent is a strong word," cautioned Robin. "She's just new at this. Why don't we look for her and give her another chance? What do you say?"

"If she survives the week," offered Batman, "I'll reconsider. Personally, I hope she listened to me. Sightings or lack thereof will tell the tale. And Robin? This is as far as I will go."

The rest of the ride to Gotham U was a tense one. Robin finally asked the obvious: "You do know this is a trap, right?" "You don't lure enemies to your home without a plan," agreed Batman. After they parked just outside the campus, Batman got a gas mask out of the trunk of the car. "Wear this," he commanded.

Batman and Robin entered dorm 237. No sign of Ivy, but that meant nothing; the lights were out. Batman was reaching for what looked like a light switch when suddenly, he found himself bound by mutant vines. They seemed to originate by a hole in the ceiling that air vents had presumably been ripped out of. "A little help, Robin?" asked Batman. But Robin wasn't making any move to help.

Straining every muscle, Batman got a Batarang out of his belt and used it to cut the vines. The vines had had enough and went back through the hole. No longer troubled by them, Batman said, "I know I handled them just fine, but..."

Batman stopped talking as he saw a contented Robin who had Poison Ivy's' right arm around his shoulder. She had apparently jumped the boy from behind with her seductive touch. No longer any question as to why Robin didn't help. "Get away from her now," Batman tried to warn. "The most beautiful creature on earth?" refused Robin. "No thanks." "As you can see," Ivy grinned at Batman, "He's my Boy Wonder now."

 _Enter adolescent hormones. This just got a lot tougher._

"You can still free him, albeit leaving him broken-hearted for wear, Ivy" Batman saw a way out of this yet. "Why the Hell would I do that?" asked an incredulous Ivy. "Because you'll get hurt if you don't," Batman threatened as he held a Batarang threateningly. Ivy's answer was the middle finger of her free arm, which was still around Robin's shoulder. So Batman threw it only for Robin to catch and toss it away. "I won't let you hurt her," said Batman's own partner.

"She doesn't love you," tried Batman. "She's a terrorist with much less heart than she thinks she has." It was Ivy who declared, "Liar! Make him pay Robin!" Robin slowly advanced towards Batman, cracking his knuckles. "Sorry about this, big guy," said an unhappy Robin. "You brought it on yourself." "In a way," admitted Batman, "You may be right." He'd missed sight of Robin to give Ivy the opportunity to control him. And this was before Batman had refused the help of one who, for all her flaws, could handle herself in a fight.

Batman blocked or dodged three kicks and two punches. Robin was now wide open. Batman spun around but couldn't bring himself to complete the roundhouse kick. His hesitance allowed Robin to stagger him with two jabs, a cross, and a hopping knee strike. Batman did manage to stop a side kick by catching Robin by the ankle, but couldn't bring himself to twist it or attack the knee or groin. Again, Robin capitalized, snap kicking his face three times and dropping him to the floor. Batman rose to one knee, but was felled again with a low roundhouse kick.

Poison Ivy saw that Robin had literally beaten Batman down and clapped. "Well done," she applauded "Have him kneel before his superior." Robin lifted Batman up to his knees. "Now, Batman," Ivy gave him the warning, "I will touch you as I did the boy. "If you can't resist, I'll have you. If you can, Robin will break your neck! So feel free to let go."

It was then that a shadowy, feminine figure decked Ivy with a jump kick and drew what looked like a sharp object out of her belt. "Don't you go anywhere," Batgirl held it over Ivy's stomach. "After you tried to kill me, I'm capable." Then Batgirl turned to Robin. "Hear that, poor guy? Release him!"

With Robin distracted, Batman was able to take off his gas mask and throw it to Batgirl. "Thanks, but don't her powers only work on guys?" questioned Batgirl. "Myth," explained Batman. "They work faster on us, but remember, her army had a few women." "I gotcha," said Batgirl, putting on the mask. "You're cornered, Ivy. You let Robin go or it's payback time!"

Ivy seethed for a few moments. "You're a cute but annoying brat," said Ivy to Robin, spitting in his direction. Robin sighed and released Batman, who said, "I do believe that's the only completely honest thing you've said to him," noted Batgirl. "Why do guys always go for girls like you?"

"What can I say?" asked Robin. "I'll never find the right girl. She's gotta pop up." With that, he winked at Batgirl and she smiled back. "Teenagers," Batman said. "They can't take anything seriously."

 **Batgirl's perspective:**

It wasn't fifteen minutes before the police arrived to take Poison Ivy away, but to Batgirl it felt like at least two hours went by. She didn't know if Batman would accept her contributions in the war on crime or unmask and send her to Juvenile Hall.

"The only business left to do," Batman finally said, "Is with you, Batgirl." Gulping Batgirl began, "Listen, I know you demanded that I go home..." "Don't, Batman" said Robin with anger. "If she'd gone home, we'd be slaves or dead by now!" Batgirl was blushing. "I did owe you guys," she reminded him.

"Perhaps this should not be about who saved who," suggested Batman. "Comrades in arms help each other, no questions asked, no answers wanted. Because they're together in this." "Do you consider me a comrade, Batman," asked Batgirl. Batman paused.

 _Please, please, please!_

"Yes," said Batman. "Some guidelines, though. Don't rush in like an overeager girl scout; keep your cool at all times; train until you've eliminated any sloppiness from your thought process and fighting style; no killing, no matter what; I'd tell you to take this more seriously, but I've given up on beating that into the skulls of kids."

"Strict," said Batgirl. "Get used to it," Robin advised her. "If these are too hard for you..." challenged Batman. "I never said I couldn't do this," Batgirl said bravely. "Then we can take you to our fortress," offered Batman. "Kind offer," Batgirl said, thanking him just the same. "But I don't want to be in your shadow. How about I be independent for awhile. Then when the bad guys respect and fear me for who _I_ am, we enter a full partnership?"

"That'll do," said Batman, holding his hand out. Batgirl shook it, then Robin's.

 **Batman's perspective:**

As Batman and Robin undressed to their underwear and put their Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson clothes back on, Robin said, "You realize of course, that I was right and you were wrong?"

"Yes," Batman admitted. "You can do better that that," Robin showed that he wasn't satisfied. "It was you who fell under Ivy's spell," Batman reminded him. "But I was right," repeated Robin.

"You're never letting me hear the end of this, are you?"

"Nope, nope, nope!"

 **Poison Ivy's perspective:**

Other than the time her father came all the way from Seattle, Ivy never had any visitors. So it was a surprise when Mikey, cured of Ivy's pheromones, came over. Still, Ivy had an idea as to why.

"Why do you have her up on the wall like a zoo animal?" asked Mikey to a nearby guard. "And why do you have to watch?" "Only way to stop her from touching others," said the guard. "You of all people should know that this is for your own good."

Mikey made a "Pfft" sound. Ivy thought that it was too bad that her trappings were now idiot-proof, because that was exactly what Mikey was proving himself to be - an idiot.

"I haven't suggested that you were anything but a so-called victim of my war to save the planet," Ivy promised Mikey. "That's not why I'm here," said Mikey. "Why'd you do it, Ivy? Why'd you take advantage of us? We could have rehabilitated you. Helped you make reforms happen the right way."

Ivy knew Mikey had a point. She sighed. "You said I could be myself. That's what I did. I am who I am, whether that's the savior or scourge of Mother Earth. And I'm not gonna change for anybody. Now go and never come back."

Mikey left with a sad look on his face.


	16. The Demon and His Daughter

**Ra's al Ghul's perspective:**

"We have all the necessary equipment," said Ubu. "Good," Ra's smiled at his bodyguard and assistant. "What about her?" asked Ubu with caution. "I do not punish employees for pointing out problems," Ra's assured him. "My daughter is in Singapore and, thus, cut off from contact with the League of Assassins. Her idealistic naivete is no longer dangerous." "I understand," smiled Ubu, "but what still escapes me is why our plans need be this grandiose, not to mention bloody."

Ra's sighed. "I do not wish to do this," he confided to his confidante. "Mankind never learns. Numerous species of plants and animals destroyed; the waste of precious resources; pollution; lethal energy emissions that push this planet ever closer to the tipping point. As much as I would rather avoid these casualties, we are left with no choice. The time has come to cut off a finger to save the rest of the body!"

Ubu nodded in agreement.

 **Bruce's perspective:**

It had been weeks since The Batgirl and Dynamic Duo had first met. They hadn't met again, though the news reports indicated that she was making a difference. Meanwhile, The Hog didn't seem to be trying to expand her criminal enterprise, nor had any archcriminals emerged or escaped from Arkham Asylum. Bruce could spend the suggested amount of hours on his company.

There was a knock on his door. "Please come in," greeted Bruce. In stepped a lovely lady who looked to be from the Middle East or India. "Immigrant, tourist or on business, Ms...?" Bruce inquired. "Crusader," said the woman in an accent Bruce didn't recognize. "One of those strongly religious types?" Bruce figured. "Some would say so," the lady gave what Bruce took as a yes.

"Muslim, Hindu, or unusual for your nationality?" Bruce asked. "It does not matter," said the woman. "I suppose it shouldn't mean much," Bruce agreed. "Perhaps we could talk more over dinner?" asked Bruce. Ever since he and Christie Whitlock had broken up, he had been slow to enter another relationship. And Bruce was a playboy. He was supposed to be in a couple.

"No time," said the woman. "In fact, I will cut to the chase." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "I know who you are and what you do. That is who and what I speak to." Bruce immediately froze. Had this foreigner somehow figured out that Bruce Wayne and The Batman were one and the same? Couldn't be. He'd used a complete disguise and backed it up with the false public image of a nepotist.

"If you're talking about my affair with the Prime Minister of Iceland last year," whispered Bruce with a playful smile, "I'm only keeping it a secret at her request. Controversy creates business opportunities. But if you want to tame me the old-fashioned way, take your best shot." The woman was now smiling herself. "Tempting offer," she said, "but I have more pressing matters to attend to. Matters that involve you."

"Oh?"

"Yes. We will see each other again very soon."

That wasn't what Bruce wanted to hear. There was no way to know whether or not this lady spoke of Bruce's secret identity as Batman and, if so, whether she planned on blackmailing or killing him. The remaining hours of the day were among Bruce's scariest since the weeks that followed the deaths of his parents. He wished his new acquaintance would just get it over with.

 _Whoever said ignorance is bliss didn't know what he was talking about._

As Bruce and Dick went downstairs to change clothes for The Batman and Robin's regular patrol, Bruce finally spit it out: "We need to look for someone tonight." "Is this someone a problem?" asked Dick. "I'm not sure," said Batman, "but she visited me at work and implied that she knew a secret of mine. Whether that's my secret or Batman's, I don't know yet."

No more words were spoken as they went to where the suits were kept and changed. "You are in excellent shape," Bruce heard a voice call from a distance behind him just as he would have put on the cape and cowl that were both in one piece. Bruce and Dick spun around. It was the very same woman Bruce had met in his office.

"Do you believe me now, Mr. Wayne?" grinned the foreign lady, now dressed like a covert operative. Bruce nodded. "Who the Hell are you?" asked Dick. Before the woman could answer, Bruce scolded, "Dick, I've warned you before about that kind of language," before facing the intruder. "But who _are_ you? How did you find me? How do you get around the Batcave's surveillance equipment? And what do you want?"

"Of course you have questions," said the uninvited guest. "First, I want to make it clear that I mean you no harm." Bruce kept staring at her, unmoved. "I am Talia al Ghul, second in line in the leadership of the League of Assassins." "They do exist," realized Bruce. "Who are they?" asked Dick.

"We are not merely assassins, despite how some misunderstand us. We are actually an ancient organization that fights for order," explained Talia. "We have taken impartial involvement in many of the great conflicts in human history dating back to the Crusades, including Britain's wars with the French and Chinese, your revolution, both World Wars, the Cold War, and the various clashes between the West and Middle Eastern terrorists and despots. We care not which side wins, only that the victors do not destroy the world. I hope you do not think it arrogant when I say that many clashes would have ended far worse for the world without us."

"Do you expect me to believe this far-fetched tale?" asked Bruce. Talia took out of her backpack a phone and tape recorder. The phone showed Bruce and Dick a snippet of an old speech Russian tyrant Joseph Stalin gave. The recorder seemed to show a servant girl telling Stalin that she had brought him his meal. This girl sounded a lot like Talia.

"You mean you...?" Bruce couldn't believe what he was being shown. Dick couldn't seem to either. "Yes," confirmed Talia. "We viewed him as a menace to the entire world. It was I who poisoned that menace. No one ever suspected. They never do." "No wonder you outsmarted my security," Bruce admitted that he was impressed.

"But you'd have to be at least ninety," Dick did the math. "Two hundred thirty-eight to be exact," Talia further shocked Bruce and Dick. "It is the Lazarus Pit. It restores your youth at the cost of brief insanity and possible death. I feel that I am coming closer each time. I do not know if I wish to take another chance on the madness becoming permanent. I fear my father, the great Ra's al Ghul, may already be there to some extent. Interested?"

"No," said Bruce. Memories of his parents' deaths had tormented him for too long as it was. Besides, a mind was a terrible thing to waste, even for immortality. "Thanks, but no thanks," agreed Robin, who went through the same. "Is this father of yours what brings you here?" asked Bruce.

"He has... become more extreme in recent decades," admitted Talia. "I have tried to talk him out of this many times, but he has finally grown tired of my objections and sent me away to command a small group in Singapore. I do not know where his plan will take place."

Bruce had no idea what to expect. He kept waiting to wake up from this strange dream and still hadn't. "What is this plan?" he asked. "The global elite does not understand how fragile the environment is," explained Talia. "The overclass is gradually destroying it. My father has chosen to poison the Atlantic Ocean." "That'll kill countless people," exasperated Bruce. "We have counted, actually," corrected Talia. "Seven billion." Bruce and Dick were stunned.

"And you're afraid we might stop him?" guessed Dick, now adopting a fighting stance. "Actually, I want you to help me stop him. Do not misunderstand me. I love my father. But he has gone too far. But I cannot find or stop him alone. I need help." "You did the right thing," Bruce said, putting on his Batman mask. "But from the way you talk, he could be anywhere on Earth."

"We buy from organized crime," said Talia. "That way, our purchases are nearly untraceable. I know he bought from Gotham City. That leads me to you."

"There's only one person we know who might be able to help us," realized Bruce. "Oh, no," Dick saw what was coming. "Not her." "Afraid so," said Bruce.

 **Batman's perspective:**

This had been a bizarre day. First Batman had learned that a woman, if not the entire League of Assassins, knew who he was. Then he had learned that some magical forces existed. The icing on the cake was being told that uber-genocide was near!

 _Swallow you doubts, Bruce! The whole damn world is at stake!_

Batman and Robin were driving through Gotham in the Batmobile. Because this car was made for two, Talia followed on the Batcycle. Soon enough, the three entered through a window of Country Buffet and entered the office of Becky "The Hog" Traylor. She and her older brother, Al, were going over business. "Traylors," said Batman, "We have words to exchange."

"Don't," The Hog restrained Al from drawing his gun. "They didn't come to fight." The enormous Southern crime duchess looked at Talia. "Hope you appreciate your luck, Arab. What've you got that Ah ain't?" "She's not a murderess," Robin decided to answer the question. "Or fat. Or smelling of tobacco. And although she's from the Middle East, she can speak real English. Did I get 'em all?"

"Can't miss a shot, can you, Boy Blunder?" chuckled The Hog. "What do you want?" "Someone's going to poison the Atlantic Ocean soon," said Batman. "Why the Hell would anybody do that?" asked The Hog. "To save the planet," said Talia. "A tree-huggin' nutcase?" asked Al. "Basically, yes," confirmed Batman.

"I would much rather be a tree-hugger who saves the planet from greedy polluters than a gunrunner who helps people kill each other," challenged Talia. "Wrong, Arab girl," retorted Al. "We're armin' _everybody_." "Thanks to us," concluded The Hog, "The weak can't be picked on by big bullies so easy. 'Nuff philosophical shit. What's any of this got ta do with us?" "They bought their supplies from organized crime," explained Batman. He feared that the Traylors would turn him down, making the mission near hopeless. He was in for quite a surprise.

"Now, do Ah look like a mean person?" asked The Hog with a sweet smile. "Ah'm ready, willin', and able to do favors. Ah always liked you anyway, little bat, so Ah can find you the purchases everybody's been makin' from the mob unions and even the smaller gangs. 'Sides, it ain't like Ah like gettin' my beer poisoned."

"Just goes to show that it doesn't hurt to ask," smiled Robin. "Uh-huh!" said The Hog. Al didn't seem to like this, but he knew that he wasn't in charge. "But Ah don't ask for nothin' in return," The Hog's face returned to businesslike. That, Batman saw coming.

"Whatever it is that you want," Batman returned The Hog's tough gesture with his own. "Know that we're not doing gangstere work." "No," declared Talia. "We have to know where the League is going, no matter what it takes! More than seven billion lives are at stake!" "The Arab gets it," said The Hog. "Besides, Ah'm only askin' you to bug the chairman of the mob unions. You're only goin' after one of us 'scum.'" "Done," said Talia. "Right, Batman?" Batman sighed. He really hated this, but The Hog was right. It wasn't as if it was law-abiding citizens she was gaining leverage over. "Right," Batman said with great reluctance.

"Look up a guy named Gasper Whittaker," said The Hog. "You bug his headquarters and home real good for me, you'll score points."

Upon returning to the vehicles, Batman said, "There's a problem. I don't think my electronic surveillance equipment is good enough." "Mine probably is," said Talia. "My father's surveillance technology worked on you, did it not?" That settled it. They began looking the man up. It was a black man who operated in Hayson, Gotham, a part of town dominated by ghettos. No wonder the GCPD couldn't find the unions. It assumed that there must be a Russian or Italian at the top.

Batman and Robin were bugging Whittaker's official business, Hip-Hop Hollywood, that no doubt had lots of illegal activity going on. As they set up the equipment that they had received from talia, Robin asked, "Why did The Hog let us know about one of her friends, even to get leverage over him?" "Because outside of your organization and often even in it," explained Batman, "There are no friends in crime. There's a lot of conflict between the gangs. In her heart, she may see him as being as much a rival as you and me."

After regrouping with Talia, Batman asked, "How did it go?" "Much easier than infiltrating governments," said Talia. All that was left was to get the desired information from The Hog.

Back at The Hog's office, Batman said, "Alright, just listen to this headsets." The Hog and Al put on the headsets and smiled at what they heard. "You've done your jobs well, boys and girl," The Hog complimented them. "Your turn," demanded Batman. "Hang on," said The Hog. "Ah said you'd score points with me. Never said it'd be enough." "Let me guess," said Robin with anger. "You've cheated us." "Ah don't cheat people," The Hog insisted with indignation. "Ah just want one thing more." "What?" asked Batman.

The Hog got in front of her desk, sat on it, and smiled. "Ah want some Batsugah," she said. "You can't be serious," said Batman. "Ah sure am," declared The Hog. "Surely savin' the world's worth it, right?" Batman sighed. "It's almost not." Batman expressed his displeasure. "Almost... but not quite."

"Ah want privacy big brother," said The Hog. Al left. "OK," said Robin. "I'm going. You too, Talia." "No," The Hog ordered Talia. "It is for the best," said Talia, pointing a pistol at The Hog. "I have heard of this woman's great upper body strength. If she destroys you, Batman, she will not live to tell of it."

"Fair enough," said The Hog. "So's this: Ah want you to pretend Ah'm her, little bat. Otherwise, deal's off." "You're pushing it," complained Batman. "And she's not..." "Shut up and kiss me," interrupted The Hog.

Batman had to fight revulsion as he walked over to The Hog. Good thing there wasn't really any attraction between Batman and Talia or this would hurt her too. The kiss turned out to be worse than disgusting. It was actually quite tasty. Not for the first time, Batman was discovering that a man who gave the overweight Hog a chance could discover great attractiveness beyond her looks. To think that Batman actually had to remind himself that he was dealing with a murderess.

When the kiss finally ended, The Hog exhaled. "You sure know how to take a lady's breath away," she complimented Batman. "One of my colleagues sold some poison to people who then flew to the Western Sahara part of Morocco. Best of luck, little bat."

 **Bruce's perspective:**

Talia had returned to her hotel room. She was to meet an unmasked Bruce Wayne at an airplane the next morning, though only after she had gotten some effective but nonlethal weapons. Bruce told her that she was not to kill as long as they worked together.

"Wait, Dick," Bruce stopped his ward from returning to his room. "We have important things to discuss." "I'm listening," Dick assured him.

"You're not coming," said Bruce. "How come?" asked Dick. "I can't leave Gotham undefended," said Bruce. "You're leaving it to me?" asked Dick with a smile. "Don't overreach yourself," Bruce slowed Dick's impetuous roll. "You're not ready to fight by yourself, so try to get The Batgirl's attention. The two of you will look out for each other." "Understood," said Dick. "I won't let you down. Just one thing. Don't trust Talia."

"You expect her to betray me?" asked Bruce, to whom that possibility had occurred. Dick nodded. "I've seen this movie before. Every one of these mysterious women who come on to you ends up our enemies. Catwoman, Poison Ivy, The Hog, and that's not counting those everyday criminals we bring in who think you're handsome. Batgirl's a heroine and she likes me. But you? Let's face it. You're a bitch magnet."

"You think Talia's attracted to Batman?" asked Bruce. "You couldn't tell?" asked Dick. Public opinion seemed to suggest that Bruce should have been able to tell.

The next morning, Bruce was driving to the airport where he kept his little Lear jet to fly to Morocco. He found Talia waiting outside in casual attire, though she still had large bags, presumably containing her stealth/combat gear. Walking up to her, Bruce whispered, "You look the part of a tourist, I'll give you that." "Father raised me to be a professional," said Talia. No more words were uttered until they entered the cockpit. Bruce was flying this trip. He wanted to keep everything confidential. If this mission provided proof of mystical forces like those purported to be keeping Ra's and Talia alive, shock and mania could quickly spread throughout the world.

When the plane totally cleared the U.S., Bruce finally asked, "Why are you fighting against your own father?" "You took a long time to get to this," noted Talia. "It is quite simple. The moment my father made this plan, I was convinced that it was mad! You cannot save this planet by slaying most of the people on it. I still did not decide to act easily. No, Mr. Wayne, I did not. I attempted to talk him out of it. He would not listen." "That's too bad," Bruce understood.

"Do not get me wrong," said Talia. "I still love my father. I simply cannot abide by what he is now doing. I fear that his last time in the Lazarus Pit may have changed him forever. Still, there is a nagging feeling in me that I am simply not the greatest daughter in the world." "On the contrary," Bruce tried to console her, "What you're saying about him makes perfect sense in light of what he's trying to do. You're doing the right thing for everyone, even him." Bruce hoped that made Talia feel better.

Of course, Bruce also had to remember that Talia's turn against her own father _was_ likely enough insincere. If it was an act, it was a Hell of an act though.

Upon landing in Morocco, Bruce and Talia passed through the airport that the plane had landed in easily enough. Time to investigate. Bruce hoped he remembered the languages he had learned during his adolescent world tours in which he had physically and mentally prepared himself to become Batman. "Did you see any strange men?" Bruce asked the cashier of the airport. "We get plenty every day in an airport," explained the cashier. "Was one of them in a green cape like the ones elites wore in ancient times?" asked Talia. "Yes," confirmed the cashier. "One of them said they were going to Prophecized Inn."

Renting a Jeep, Bruce and Talia drove to Prophecized Inn. Because Talia was continental enough to not need a map in Morocco, she was driving. Besides, this gave Bruce a chance to change into his Batman costume in the backseat floorboards for the investigation and ambush to come.

Bruce was halfway through changing when Talia said, "Very good Arabic, Mr. Wayne. Only my trained ears could detect even a hint of an American accent." Bruce blushed upon hearing this. "Th-thank you," he said. He didn't know why it was so hard to take that compliment. He didn't even know if he could trust Talia and he seemed to be developing feelings for her?

 **Batman's perspective:**

The airport cashier must have partially misheard Ra's and his men, if the cashier even heard them at all. Just to be sure, Talia looked at a roster of people staying at Prophecized Inn. "Here we are," she smiled. "I recognize Asheem and Lacklin. Two of Father's men. Room 137." Using Batman's Batgrapple, the two entered the room through a window and saw their targets lying on the couch, watching TV. Batman saw that Ahsheem was an Arab like he figured, But Lacklin looked to be Scottish. Did Ra's recruit from all over the world? Then this promised to be a very hard mission.

Batman and Talia each tackled a target and pinned that target's wrists to the pillows. "We want information," Batman said to Asheem, the man he was holding. "Never," declared Lacklin from the other bed. Looking to his right at Talia, Asheem cried, "Turn away from this path, traitor. If your father ever finds out that you have betrayed him..."

"I do not act against my father easily," Talia assured her father's men. "But neither can I betray humanity." She stared in Lacklin's eyes hard and seemed to hold his eyes open with her gaze. "What are you doing?" asked Batman. "Wait and see, Dark Knight," explained Talia. After two or three minutes, Lacklin looked docile. "Where is Father?" Talia demanded of the hypnotized Lacklin. "West to the coastline," Lacklin spit it out against his own wishes. "Sleep," commanded Talia. Lacklin did so. Batman preferred to take out Ahsheem with a pair of punches.

It's hard to truly cover your tracks if you're driving across a desert like the Sahara. Batman very quickly noticed telltale signs of where a bunch of Range Rovers had driven together. In time, Batman noticed a camp in the distance with his Batoculars. "I think I may see them," said Batman. "May I?" asked Talia. Batman handed his Batoculars over. "Yes," confirmed Talia. "I recognize the symbol of the League of Assassins." But it was too late at night to strike now, so Batman and Talia had to make camp for the night. But not before they found themselves staring at each other for seven seconds before setting up the tent. The recall of how Talia's gaze had unmanned Lacklin finally made Bruce break off the impasse.

 **Bruce's perspective:**

Batman certainly didn't need a night of discomfort heading into a tremendous battle in the morning, so he changed back to Bruce. As he and Talia ate field rations (which was mediocre at best compared to what the billionaire was used to), Bruce asked. "Where did you learn that trick you pulled on Lacklin?" "Father," answered Talia. "Is that how he recruits?" asked Bruce. Talia paused before saying, "Yes, Mr. Wayne. They have been hypnotized." "I'm sorry I asked," Bruce made his most honest statement in some time.

"He feels that he is giving them a more meaningful life," said Talia. "Nothing justifies taking their free will away," insisted Bruce. "Now you know how Father can convince himself that genocide is the answer," lamented Talia. "How I wish I had never met him, much less called him 'Father!'"

Bruce placed a hand on Talia shoulder consolingly. "You're not him," Bruce promised. "Without you, he'd probably pull this off. Besides, a bad father is better than none at all. Believe me, I know." Talia seemed to feel better. Bruce, on the other hand, wondered if he should be opening up to his enemy's daughter.

Talia showed her appreciation of Bruce's kindness by leaning forward and closing her eyes. Bruce's brain and heart were at war. He knew he couldn't trust this woman yet really wanted to. As Talia's lips met Bruce's, he couldn't help but close his eyes and return the kiss.

Heart had triumphed over brain.

 **Batman's perspective:**

It was the crack of dawn. Batman very seldomly worked in broad daylight, but this was an emergency. For all he and Talia knew, the poison was to be dumped that day... or it already had been and they needed to get the antidote away from Ra's.

The two were sneaking through the camp, so far remaining unseen. Ra's was in an outside meeting with a few of his men. Although Batman could read lips, he couldn't detect anything about poison. Nor could they see anything that looked like poison. "It may be in there, beloved," Talia pointed to a king size tent, presumably the one Ra's slept in. Batman and Talia entered. It was unprotected, presumably because you had to get past patrols just to enter the camp.

Batman and Talia discovered many barrels in Ra's tent. These barrels must have contained the toxic liquid meant to contaminate the Atlantic Ocean. As Batman and Talia walked toward the barrels, the two were startled as a net snare sprang from its hiding place beneath the sumptuous oriental rugs that covered the floor of the leader's opulently appointed tent. Now immobilized and lifted four meters above ground, Batman whispered, "Don't panic. I'll get us out of here." He drew out a Batarang to cut the net but heard a gunshot that hit the highest part of the snare dropping Batman, Talia, and the net containing them to the ground. Immediately, they were surrounded by men with rifles, Ra's al Ghul being among them.

"How long ago did you spot us?" inquired Batman. "Long enough," Ra's said simply. "Batman, is it not? Bruce Wayne, to be more accurate. detective, to be most accurate. And I see you are with the lady who calls herself my daughter." "I could not let you do this," said Talia. "You have crossed the line between righteousness and fanatacism." "Agreed," said Batman.

Ra's frowned. "They have had how many years with how many warning them?" he argued. "No, they have had long enough. If they still will not cease the destruction of this planet, they never will. Gentlemen, cage the girl. Execute the detective." "No," cried Talia. "Consider your own fate for having betrayed me, lovely daughter," threatened Ra's. "Now is the time to convince me that you are sorry."

Batman's hands were tied together behind his back, his belt was removed, and he was dragged just outside of the camp. Three of Ra's men were now taking aim at Batman's head with their rifles.

 _C'mon, Bruce, find the flaw in these... got it!_

Bruce finally squeezed out of the ropes just in time to duck the bullets. He hadn't made another of his great escapes yet. While rifles lacked the rapid fire of machine guns, they were far more accurate and had enough power to penetrate the limited protection that Batman's suit afforded him. He hadn't made another of his miracle comebacks yet...

Batman dived to the side to avoid another series of gunfire. He continued taking evasive actions to avoid more and more shots. Finally, the gunmen ran out of bullets. "Let's see how you do the old-fashioned way." Within eight seconds, all three men were unconscious.

Batman sneaked back into the camp. Hiding in a deep shadow cast by one of the tents in the early half-light, he saw that Ra's and his men had transported the barrels out of the big tent. "Pour these toxins into the pipeline, Ubu," Ra's said to his three hundred pound assistant. "What of the young mistress?" asked Ubu. "I will give her three days to accept that we did what needed to be done."

"And if she does not?"

"I know the importance of sacrifice."

Batman was horrified to hear that! At least with The Joker's inclination to one day do away with his girlfriend, he had insanity as an excuse. No time to waste! With none of Ra's men wanting to miss the show, Batman could enter the boss' tent unseen. There was Talia in a large cage and Batman's belt. Putting the belt back on, he used his Batarang to pick the lock and let Talia out. "No time for secrecy," said Batman. "They're about to do it!"

Fortunately, Ra's chose to celebrate the carnage he was abou to cause with a speech. "Ra's," cried Batman from a distance. "We won't let you do this." "This is not the answer," added Talia. "Please stop, father." "I will do what I must," said Ra's, signaling his men to attack. "As must I," resolved Talia.

Batman and Talia spread apart from each other to draw apart the fire of Ra's men and played it defensively and evasively. As the opportunity arose, Batman delivered blows to them and Talia used her tranquilizer rifle to take out the others. Eventually, Ra's and Ubu were the only ones left.

 **Talia's perspective:**

Talia ran at Ubu and delivered a diving punch that couldn't even budge him. Ubu retaliated by lifting her up by the throat and choking. Talia shook out of it after a few seconds but was decked by a punch and had to log roll away from an elbow drop. She had to avoid this kind of punishment.

"You still are not his heir," taunted Talia. "How could you be, fool?" Ubu was upset. _Good._ Ubu lunged at Talia, who now focused on blocking and dodging. Not all the blows missed, but just as Talia felt like she was about to pass out, Ubu seemed to be slowing down. Ubu had overexerted his size. A right cross from Talia rocked Ubu back. Ducking under the return punch, Talia delivered five of her own to Ubu's midsection to drop him to his knees. "Case in point," said Talia, finishing Ubu off with a knee strike under the chin.

 **Batman's perspective:**

Ra's drew his scimitar and charged Batman with it. Batman parried with the armor over his right forearm, though not without difficulty. Ra's seemed to be a great swordsman. Two more slashes turned out to be feints and a third, real, slash left a cut in a chink in Batman's hip. Ra's had to have very good eyes to spot that weak spot.

Sensing his momentum, Ra's moved in to cut off the head, declaring, "Goodbye, detective." Instead, Batman defended himself with a perfect karate chop that sent the scimitar flying through the air. He then knocked Ra's back and onto his back with a side kick. Lifting Ra's up, Batman through two punches and a headbutt knocked Ra's al Ghul out, closing this most difficult case.

"We make a good team, beloved," Talia smiled at Batman. Batman, though not a joyful person, managed a very slight grin. "That we do," he agreed. "Although..." Talia said thoughtfully. "What is to become of my father?" "He is guilty of attempting to extinguish a species, perhaps a planet" explained Batman. "That poison does not pick and choose. His poison may have killed off all life on the planet he sought to save. His future is bleak. They're known to torture criminals here in Morocco, but this is where..." He stopped talking Talia cocked her pistol and pointed it at Batman.

"I've half-expected this," said an unsurprised Batman. "Actually," said Talia, "I have helped you stop his plan. But that does not mean I will let you take him to the authorities. I am sorry, but I cannot allow that to happen to him." "He's a murderer," Batman tried to explain. "I overheard him imply that if you didn't accept what he was doing as normal, he would have killed you." "I believe you," said Talia.

"It doesn't matter, does it?"

"No."

"He doesn't deserve your loyalty."

"He never had to earn it. He is my father. It is as simple as that, beloved. Put some of those barrels into the jeep and drive away. I will protect and make sure Father never tries anything like this again. I will never forget our special night together, beloved, but it would seem that we are not meant to be. Farewell. We shall not meet again."

Batman found those terms unacceptable, but they would ensure that the world was safe from Ra's al Ghul. Moreover, he really didn't want to battle Talia, especially for protecting her father. After all, Batman had long wished that he had been old enough when the time came to do the same for his own mother and father.

Somehow, Batman felt that he shouldn't look at Talia again as he carried a few of the barrels of toxic liquid away. He feared that he wouldn't be able to help but choose her over the promise he had made to Gotham City and his parents so long ago.

 **Bruce's perspective:**

Upon returning to Wayne Manor the next evening, Bruce hugged Dick, then Alfred. "How's Gotham?" Bruce asked Dick. "Batgirl and me kept the great city from falling apart," Dick assured him. "Took down a new supercriminal on the block." "Congratulations," said Bruce. "Now remember - I expect Robin to make less mistakes from now on."

"I'll try," Dick said uneasily. "I do believe that you shouldn't use one standout performance as an excuse to push him even harder, Master Bruce," cautioned Alfred. "Figures you'd be soft," sighed Bruce. "If I'm his father figure, you're the grandfather."

"So was Talia on the level?" asked Dick. "Mostly," said Bruce. "Uh-oh," guessed Dick. "We stopped her father," said Bruce, "But she wouldn't let me put Ra's away. She's making sure he never steps out of line again."

"You're not telling me something," Dick smiled. "Something you two did at night?" "And I won't," said Bruce. "If you want to needle me about this, it has to wait. There's someone else I have to tell about this."

 **Batman's perspective:**

Batman knocked on the outside of one of the windows of The Hog's office. Opening it, she backed up with a smile and said, "Come on in, little bat." Doing so, Batman said, "Your information checked out."

"My pleasure," said The Hog. "None of the city folk outside have a clue that most of 'em came this close to water poisonin'." She held her right index finger and thumb close together for effect. "And that's the way it has to stay," demanded Batman. "This case revealed too many strange things for them to handle." "If you say so," allowed The Hog.

"Since the Arab ain't here and you don't look very happy," The Hog figured it out, "Ah'm guessin' it didn't work out. Aw, poor little bat. There's always me." She moved in close, but Batman put his index and middle fingers over The Hog's lips. "I've told you before," Batman said. "I don't get involved with criminals.

"But you've kissed The Catwoman," The Hog reminded him. "Which Ah can't stand knowin', by the way. Wanna help me with that?" Batman really wanted to know just how the Hell The Hog knew about that, but it was better to not take a chance on her wearing him down through a long conversation. He bolted out the window and used his Batgrapple to slow his fall to the sidewalk below.


	17. Boy and Girl Vacation To the Arctic

_Note: this story takes places part of the way through the previous chapter. Specifically, during Batman's trip abroad to go after Ra's al Ghul. In the meantime, it's up to the junior crime fighters to hold the fort in Gotham City._

 **Batgirl's perspective:**

"There was a large searchlight in the nightly sky reading, "Calling The Batgirl." Batgirl went over there cautiously. _Could be a citizen calling for help. Could be criminals seeking to trap me. Either way, you want me? You got me!_

Changing back to her Barbara Gordon persona, she drove her car closer to where the light was originating. As she neared the light, Batgirl looked through her Batoculars (the reader should note that because of the teenage girl's lack of money, these lacked the wing-like protrusions of the Batoculars that The Batman and Robin used) to see Robin on a rooftop. There was her answer.

Getting back into her suit, Batgirl used her Batrope to slowly climb up to the top of the building Robin was perched on. "Hi," she said with a smile. After all, Robin was a friend, and a cute one at that. "Hi," returned Robin. "Batman's out of town. He wants us to work together in his stead." "Sounds Great," Batgirl accepted the offer. "But where is he?" "Can't say," said Robin. "Why not?" asked Batgirl. "Kind of thing that would make people panic if they knew, so as long we don't know who each other is, let's just kick crooked ass!" "OK," said Batgirl, shaking Robin's hand.

It was just then that they heard a burglar alarm go off. "Let's say 'Hi,'" said Robin. They descended from the the building roof. "This way," directed Robin as he started running. Batgirl followed him to the Batmobile, which they got in. Batgirl was floored by the sleekness and equipment inside the cockpit! "Where'd Batman get all this stuff?" asked Batgirl. "You're asking me?" Robin chuckled. "I don't even know how to use the Batnavicomputer, never mind where it came from." "Go after this car," Batgirl said, placing her finger on the one car she saw moving fast. "You can tell?" asked Robin. "Trust me," said Batgirl. "I know computers." This _was_ the talent of hers that her father wanted her to make a career out of rather than crime fighting, after all... but she was her own person.

As the Batmobile gained on the the car, Batgirl saw that she'd been right. The three men inside were wearing full ski masks with eye and mouth slits. To Batgirl's surprise, a power winch launched at the bumper of the escaping car and Robin hit the breaks, ending the chase. "Nice trick," Batgirl complimented. "If you're already dazzled..." Robin said with a smile as he opened the front shield of the Batmobile.

Batgirl and Robin stood side-by-side on the hood, staring down the three burglars. "Just the kids," said one of them. "Get outta here," threatened another. "You don't wanna mess with grown men." Batgirl and Robin's answer to this was a simultaneous double-footed jump kick that decked all three men. Batgirl roundhouse kicked unconscious one man as he tried to stand, while Robin took care of the other two with a right cross to one and two snap kicks to the other's face.

The two young heroes slapped each other's hands. "A partner who'll give me five," noted Robin. "Guess Batgirl and Robin is a lot more fun than Batman and Robin." "Play your cards right," Batgirl offered flirtatiously, "And you just might find out how much more fun." "A guy would have to be crazy to say no to that," said Robin.

 **Mr. Freeze's perspective:**

The man who once identified as Victor Fries was waiting in his room. Jake entered the room. "You called, Mr. Freeze?" he asked while taking care to stay out of the cold beam. "Yes," affirmed Freeze. "We're testing my new Freeze Turret on this state's Department of Revenue."

This surprised Jake. "Why there?" he asked. "To put the fear of God into the man who forced me to live in the cold," said Freeze. "But there's no money to be made in hittin' a gub'ment buildin'," tried Jake. "This isn't about money. It's about revenge on the man who forced me to live in the cold forever, not to mention forcing him to hand over the hundreds of millions I need to find a cure for Nora. You've already made a lot of money from our previous jobs," offered Freeze. No sale. "I'm in this to make money," Jake buried his line in the sand Freeze's answer to this was to pick up his Freeze Gun and shoot it. A laser beam struck poor Jake, encasing him in ice.

Freeze walked over to the cryogenic capsule keeping his wife in suspended animation. "I know I've kept you waiting, honey," he said, "But the wait ends soon. We'll be together again."

Donning his suit, Freeze carried a frozen Jake to the living room of the hideout where his men we're waiting. "We're going to see if my Freeze Turret can't freeze a government building," Freeze ordered. "Jake here didn't think this was a good idea. Any other objections." Everybody shook their heads. "Good."

 **Robin's perspective:**

The police radio of the Batmobile was sounding. "Calling all cars! Calling all cars! An armored vehicle has been spotted at the Department of Revenue building and - am I reading this right - freezing it."

"Sounds like a prank to me," said The Batgirl. "I see what you mean," argued Robin, "But I've seen a lot of strange stuff in the short while I've been doing this. Trust me, this stuff can happen. We're going."

On the way, Batgirl said, "You said stuff. I'd think you'd use the other 'S' word." "Batman doesn't let me cuss," explained Robin. "Strict and overprotective, is he?" asked Batgirl. "Mm-hmm," lamented Robin. "I can relate," said Batgirl.

"This the part where I shouldn't pry?"

"It sure is."

Soon enough, the Batmobile got near the Department of Revenue building where Batgirl and Robin did indeed see an armored car that was nearly finished freezing the building solid. "If they spot, us..." began Batgirl. "I know they have a superweapon, Ms. Narrator," Robin assured her. He snapped his finger. "I know what to do." He cut the engine and coasted. At the speed the Batmobile was going, it coast into the car, pinning it against the building it was freezing, but the Batmobile made little noise doing so. Before the criminals had taken aim with their Freeze Turret, Batgirl and Robin were already out of the Batmobile.

Out came four regularly dressed criminals lead by what looked like a blue man in a white radiation suit made of nylon and armed with a large rifle. "What is this supposed to be?" asked Robin. "The male Ripley," guessed Batgirl. "Didn't know you were into really old movies," said Robin. "A classic never dies," said the criminal boss. "But neither of you is the classic hero of this city. Go away and you won't be harmed." "Suck it, baggy bag," said Robin. "The name is Mr. Freeze," Freeze took aim with his gun.

Batgirl and Robin both dodged the laser blast, but because it shot a constant beam, Freeze was able to get an instant second shot at Batgirl by flailing his arms to the side. Because she was used to ordinary guns, this surprised and left her with frozen legs from foot to mid-thigh. "Batgirl," screamed Robin. He took a quick glance at Batgirl to see that she was shivering and lying on her back.

"Don't ever cross the man called Victor," Freeze threatened Batgirl. Turning to Robin, he explained, "If her legs are freed right now, she's fine. But if this lasts, she'll need anything from a vacation to snip-snip." Freeze made a scissor cut gesture with his right index and middle finger. "The choice is yours. Let's go!"

Freeze and his men were fleeing to their car. Robin knew that with the Batmobile's momentum drained, they could escape. Did he chase them or save his ally and... perhaps he shouldn't get ahead of himself. He ran to Batgirl. "Don't worry about me," she advised. "They have to be stopped." "Not at your expense," said Robin. As Robin drew a Batarang, he thought he heard Batgirl muttering something about him not listening. Which wasn't wrong because his focus was Batgirl's frozen legs. _You may hate me for this, Batgirl, but I'm not letting you lose your legs. Not you._ Robin began chipping away at the ice over Batgirl's left leg, but with care. When he struck with a Batarang, it had to hit ice, not skin.

Two or three minutes into this, the leg was free. Robin did the same thing with the other leg. "Are they OK?" asked Robin. "Let's see," said Batgirl. She kicked Robin twice under the chin with her right leg, then turned herself halfway over to swing her left leg across Robin's jaw. "Right as rain," concluded Batgirl. She seemed angry.

"What'd you do that for?" asked Robin. "I saved your legs." "Sorry to bruise your ego," said Batgirl, "But after the shock of having my legs frozen wore off, I probably could've freed them myself."

"You're willing to hang your legs on 'probably?'"

"To save lives, absolutely! Besides, Freeze didn't say that my legs were definitely coming off if they stayed frozen. He said I might just need time off. Chances of me losing my legs were less than twenty percent. Face it, you thought with your dick, not your head."

"You could afford to get humble yourself," grinned Robin. "You're not saying I'm wrong." Batgirl pointed out. "I guess 'cause you're right," Robin had to admit. "But even if it was a mistake, I made it to help you." Batgirl seemed at least willing to acknowledge that. "Do you have any idea where they went?"

"No," said Robin. Before Batgirl could say anything else, Robin had snapped his fingers. "He called himself Victor." "Victor, Victor, Victor" pondered Batgirl. "Why does that sound so familiar? We'll do just a little more patrolling and then I'll look up Victor at my school library tomorrow. I've got a hunch."

After a bit more patrolling, Robin and Batgirl had parted ways. It was time for the Boy Wonder to return to the Batcave. "Why in such a bad mood, Master Robin?" asked Alfred. "She and I got in a fight," sighed Robin. "Young relationships can be rocky," said Alfred. "I'm not so sure you could call it a relationship," said Robin. "Especially now. At least the argument is over." "Are you sure?" Alfred questioned. "Yeah," said Robin. "Because I know she was right."

 **Barbara's perspective:**

Barbara Gordon was on lunch break, so she entered her high school library with her best friend, Miranda. "You're such a geek," Miranda teased. "A geek who beats you in gym class," Barbara retorted. "Seriously," said Miranda. "What are you studying for, extra credit?" "You could say that," answered Barbara.

Barbara came across the name "Victor Fries." She smiled in jubilation.

 _Of course! That's the Victor I recognized._

 **Robin's perspective:**

Late the next afternoon, Robin let out a sigh of relief when he saw that Batgirl was in a good mood. Entering the Batmobile, Batgirl said, "Bingo! Victor Fries. He's one of this city's top scientists. I remember him from when he spoke at my school five years ago. Turns out that there was an accident last season that caused an experiment of his to go haywire. Mutated his body, turning his skin blue and left him unable to survive in a temperature hotter than fifty below zero. If he weren't literally blue and had hair, he would've looked a lot like the guy we went up against last night. And it just so happens that I know of a place he's recently rented."

"Sorry to point out the flaw in your story," said Robin, "But scientists are well-paid. Why would he need to turn to crime?" "When you have eliminated the impossible," Batgirl said, "Whatever remains, however improbable, must be true."

Robin nodded, but he wasn't entirely sold. "Don't you think this is too easy?" he asked. "I'll admit I didn't exactly have to bust my butt," Batgirl admitted. "He even told us his first name to tip us off," Robin reminded her. "I think he wants us to find him because he's set a trap."

Batgirl froze for a moment before asking, "You're not suggesting we do nothing?" "No," Robin shook his head. "But we'd better be extra careful."

The Batmobile was nearly at the place. "Batman and I usually come in through the windows, but..." Robin explained cautiously. Batgirl nodded. "Since he's expecting us, how about the back door?"

Through the back door Batgirl and Robin went. The lights were on but no sign of anyone yet. _It's quiet. Too quiet._

Suddenly, Robin heard a blasting sound to the side. He turned to Batgirl but it was too late. She was totally frozen. It went without saying that Mr. Freeze, who could be seen not far past Batgirl, was responsible. "I knew this was too easy," said Robin.

"Not well enough, young man," Freeze pointed his gun at Robin and fired. Robin managed to dive under the laser and handspring at Freeze's gun. He managed to hold on through the power kick but was staggered, so Robin tried to wrestle it away. This got him thrown into a nearby wall and stunned. "To move around in this cold-preserving suit," explained Freeze, "I designed it to triple my strength as well." No sooner had he said that when coldness and unconsciousness came over Robin.

 **Batgirl's perspective:**

Batgirl had awakened somehow. She was in a large living room. Her costume was very wet. She must have been frozen and thawed out. This would require some dry cleaning. And she'd have to do it without getting caught.

 _First things first._ She turned to Robin, who was also waking up. "We're OK," Batgirl whispered. "Any idea where we are?" "The last thing I remember is getting shot by Freeze," Robin shook his head. "The last thing I remember is looking around in his house," Batgirl made clear that she knew even less. "Question is, if we were frozen, why am I so hot?" "In more ways than one?" joked Robin. "Got me."

"I see the children have awakened," Batgirl heard a man's voice. The two young heroes stood up to find Mr. Freeze lying in a bed. But he wasn't in his suit. In fact, he was wearing perfectly normal clothing. "First of all," declared Robin. "Get it right. We're not children anymore. Second, you were a moron to let us get thawed out. 1... 2... 3!"

Batgirl and Robin charged the defenseless Freeze, only to feel intense cold after a few steps. It was like the South Pole. Batgirl and Robin fell face-down just short of Freeze. Batgirl was shivering and chattering her teeth, helpless. Robin did manage to crawl to Freeze's legs, but his punches no longer had enough power for Freeze to even feel them. Of all the ways to die, literally freezing to death was than any Batgirl had imagined.

Shockingly, Freeze pulled them back near the hot spot. The teens crawled back the rest of the way to precious heat. Batgirl smiled for a moment. She wanted to believe she and Robin were safe. _It's an illusion, girlfriend._

"Did you really think I would leave myself vulnerable to your attack without a backup plan?" asked Freeze. Batgirl nodded. Unlike Robin, she was humble enough to admit to a clumsy mistake like that. "Young people," Freeze shook his head. He was right. Batman definitely wouldn't have miscalculated that badly. If Batgirl and Robin didn't grow up fast, they would never grow up at all.

"We-we're not sunk yet," said Robin, just now getting warmer. He reached for his waist to find no belt. "You still have yours - Aw, man!" Freeze pointed to a rack on the other side of the room. The belts hung on hooks. So did Batgirl and Robin's last hope.

"You've thought this out," Batgirl had to admit. "But wouldn't it have been easier to kill us?" "My employees suggested that," said Freeze. "But I will be the most wanted man in town after today. And The Batman may be out of town, but he's sure to return and find out about me. But they won't be so quick to endanger heroes or kids, and you're both."

"You pass the scum test," said Robin. "I'll give you that." "On the contrary," Freeze said defensively. "I'm doing this to save a life. My wife had gangrene. I cryogenic-ally preserved her body." He pointed to a capsule with a frozen woman inside. "Unfortunately, for her, _your_ Mayor, John Linseed, cut off funding for my project. He ended my only chance to save her in the name of fiscal responsibility, though in reality he still will not balance Gotham's budget!"

"That's very romantic of you," Batgirl had to admit. "Huh?" asked Robin incredulously. "In a twisted way," Batgirl assured him. "Enough," concluded Freeze "I am not debating this with you. I will force Linseed to hand over the hundreds of millions of dollars that I need, but not before he has suffered. Don't go anywhere."

 _Like we have a choice._

"We're in a tight spot and have to get out of it fast," sighed Batgirl. "Any ideas?" Robin sat down and buried his face in his hands. "I'm sorry, Batgirl," he said. "You were right. Should've gone after him the first time. The second time, I had the chance to take him down and failed. This is all my fault." Batgirl grabbed him by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "No, Robin," she said sternly. "This is no time to feel sorry for yourself. Lives are at stake. I don't know how to get out of this, but somehow, we've got to."

Robin stood up. "You're right," he said. "I know what to do. Were you trained to survive hostile temperatures?" "I was trained in martial arts and gymnastics," said Batgirl. "I'll take that as a no," said Robin. "I've gotten the kind of training we need." "Don't even think about it," Batgirl glared at him. "We both tried this. It didn't work." "Before," Robin argued, "I was caught by surprise by the cold. I'm ready now. Maybe. Batman told me that the most important lesson was to never give up until you're on your back and the lights are out. Here's the plan. That's where the cold is coming from." Robin pointed at a glass object in the ceiling in the center of the cold section of the room. "I'll get your belt for you. Then I'll throw it to you. You'll have the presence of mind to break that thing with a Batarang!"

"What if you don't make it?" asked Batgirl. "At least I'll know I did my best to redeem myself. I'm not that good at talking serious. How'd I do?" "Beautifully," said Batgirl. Against her better judgment, she let Robin do this.

Robin darted towards the rack but fell down a meter short. Batgirl had to fight the urge to help. Without her belt, she couldn't do a lot for him. Robin slowly got up, inched towards Batgirl's belt, threw it to Batgirl, and fell. Catching the belt, Batgirl seized a Batarang and threw it at the cold beam generator. It shattered. Batgirl reached out. The coldness was dissipating and the hot section spread heat through the room now that no additional coldness was being emitted.

Batgirl took the blanket off Freeze's bed. She covered an unconscious Robin in it and pressed him against her so he feel her body warmth. "Don't you leave us, Robin," Batgirl pleaded. "Fight! Fight!" For several seconds, Robin couldn't seem to hear her. Then Batgirl smiled broadly as she felt movement. Robin got out of the blanket and Batgirl's embrace.

"Thanks," said Robin. "Oh, no," said Batgirl. "You did what you had to do. Besides, we kind of saved each other." She wept off a tear. "Wait," said Robin. "Did you..." "It's really hot on the other side of the room," explained Batgirl. "Either way," said Robin, "That suit of Freeze's gives him super strength. Thought you might want to know." Batgirl thought on this. "Maybe another reason for that suit," she said. "I may have a plan."

Leaving Freeze's room revealed that everyone was gone. "He's gone after the Mayor," said Robin. With that, they ran outside and towards the Batmobile. They looked up where Mayor Linseed was to speak. Gotham Plaza. Robin hit the gas.

"If you don't mind me speaking off-topic," asked Batgirl "It's daytime." "So it is," said Robin. "Why?" "No reason," said Batgirl. Barbara Gordon had missed school. She was in for it in a big way!

 **Mr. Freeze's perspective:**

Back in his suit, Mr. Freeze saw Linseed speaking in the distance. The Freeze Cannon of Freeze's car started blasting. It created a circular barrier of ice that boxed in Linseed and those attending the speech. "I will deal with him myself," declared Freeze. "I only want you to keep the police out." He walked to a fire hydrant and took off the top of it. It sprayed upwards. Freeze leaned over and froze the water so ice shot out that launched Freeze over the ice barrier.

Freeze immediately froze Linseed's bodyguards solid, freaking out the crowd. "I have you no problem with you," said Freeze, pushing through people to reach Linseed. "What the Hell do you want from... you!" Linseed suddenly recognized the man formerly known as Victor Fries. "What did I ever do to you?" "It's what you didn't let me do to save my beloved Nora," Freeze said as he froze Linseed's legs, torso, and midsection. "You may have been too cheap to let me save Nora, but now it is _your_ life that only money can help now."

 **Robin's perspective:**

Robin took aim with the Batmobile's gas pellet launcher. It broke through the window of the cockpit of Freeze's armored car containing two of Freeze's men before gassing them out. Out of the back of the car came two more to enter the cockpit, but the Batmobile cut them off. Springing out of the Batmobile, Batgirl and Robin each jump kicked a thug down, then finished their targets off with standing kicks.

"Time for Frosty the Snowman," said Robin as he and Batgirl used their Batgrapples to get over the barrier of ice. And a Batarang from Robin launched Freeze's gun a distance away. Batgirl and Robin lunged at their opponent, only to be caught and lifted up by the throats with the strength of an American brown bear. "Batarangs like I said," shouted Batgirl as she and Robin drew the bladed weapons and pierced Freeze's face shield with them. Freeze shrieked in pain and covered the slashes in the glass with his hands. But low kicks to the legs from Batgirl and Robin had him down on the ground. As Batgirl tied up the legs with a Batrope, Robin did the arms.

"No," screamed Freeze. "I'm so sorry, Nora." "Lab rats can take it from here," promised Robin. "Might take awhile," said Batgirl, "but it's the right way." "Kids," shivered Linseed. "A little help?" "I don't know how to thaw people out," said Robin unsympathetically. "Me neither," said Batgirl.

In time, of course, help arrived. Linseed was saved and Freeze was taken to jail. Batgirl and Robin watched from a rooftop, smiling. "Wait'll the big guy finds out we took down an archcriminal without him," boasted Robin. "You gonna tell him you had to mess up and redeem yourself?" "When's that run its course?" asked Robin. "Never," said Batgirl. "But don't worry. It's our little secret." She winked at him.

Suddenly, something in Robin wanted to get close to Batgirl. So he did so. They paused for a few seconds, then kissed.

After the pair had parted ways, Robin drove home to the Batcave. "Where were you last night and this morning?" asked Alfred. "Saving the city," explained Robin. "The usual," realized Alfred. "I called Master Dick's class. He was out sick today. And you'll be happy to know that Master Bruce is coming home tonight." "Oh," acknowledged Robin.

"You don't seem very happy to see him again," noted Alfred. "Whatever is between you, I suggest that you settle it." "It's not that," assured Robin. "Just as I'm really liking working with Batgirl, that partnership is over." "I believe I understand," said Alfred with a smile. "Buck up, lad. I'm sure you'll see her again soon enough." "Probably," said Robin. "But nothing's a guarantee in this outfit."

 **Barbara's perspective:**

That was a very good guess, for Barbara was in big trouble with her father.

"Why did you disappear last night?" asked Commissioner James Gordon for the fifth time. "I passed out," Barbara said once again. It was true enough. "Don't lie to me," said James.

"When has she ever lied to us?" Jimmy, little brother of Barbara, asked. "Quiet, Jimmy," demanded James. "Go play video games." "But I don't want to..." began Jimmy. "That's not a suggestion," insisted James. Jimmy left, saying, "Good luck, Babs."

"I know more happened than you passing out, young lady," said James. "You need to tell me what really happened last night." Barbara needed to give him an explanation, but she couldn't give him the real one. She had to make something up. "I've had a curiosity of what snorting meth would feel like," Barbara told her father. "So that's what I did."

 _Wait! What was I thinking in giving him this explosive an explanation?_

James looked hurt. "Drugs," he said. "How many times have I warned you?" "A lot," Barbara recollected. Her father was mad. At least Barbara's secret was safe.

"I see I haven't been raising you well without your late mother after all," said James. "You're grounded for a month." "Yes, sir," said Barbara.

Just as Batgirl was getting noticed by the media, she needed a vacation. There might be opportunities to suit up without Gordon noticing that Barbara was gone, but probably not many.

 _The things you have to do to be a heroine these days._


	18. Cat Season

**Batman's perspective:**

 _Back in Gotham, the city I protect._

Batman had celebrated his return by stopping a few crimes with the help of Robin. Suddenly, the police radio blared, "Calling all cars in Greektown, Gotham. The fugitive known as The Catwoman has stolen a diamond necklace and escaped. Please be on the lookout." Batman knew that meant he had a chance to catch one of the very few criminals that he hadn't been able to yet. Problem was, there was a small part of him that didn't really want to.

"I'd say she's a wannabe," said Robin, "But you'd never steal." "Indeed," said Batman. "Catwoman is one of the greatest thieves in the world and not too bad in a fight. You're lucky you haven't run into her yet, but the break's over. I got her the first time, though she somehow managed to escape the police. She's escaped me four times in a row since then. But tonight's another night and you're with me." "Greektown's a ways from here," said Robin. "With the police looking for her," explained Batman "She has to be slow and careful. That buys us time."

Sure enough, after a seventeen-minute drive to Greektown, Batman and Robin did find Catwoman on a house-shaped building. Swinging on his Batgrapple, Batman was able to knock her off her perch and pull her up by the boot before she would have fallen down the slope to the side. "My hero," said Catwoman, moving in close and pressing her chin against Batman's . "Don't play the damsel in distress," said Batman. "I know you would've found a way to break your fall."

"I guess you prefer aggressive women," mused Catwoman, putting Batman down by grabbing his left arm and performing a shoulder throw. "Wish granted," Catwoman straddled him. "I'm more sistah than girl anyway." What Catwoman was about to do changed when she heard the sounds of Robin charging in. For a moment, Catwoman charged at him in return. Then she lashed her whip to entangle Robin's left leg, enabling her to throw the young man into Batman, knocking them both off the edge. A jolt of the whip detached it from Robin and the Dynamic Duo was in free-fall.

"If at first you don't succeed, stud-muffins..." Catwoman called sweetly. But Batman knew that if he and Robin didn't tend to their survival first, they wouldn't be able to try, try again. As Batman no longer had his Batgrapple, he grabbed Robin's left hand. But Robin seemed too caught up in the scary moment to grab his Batgrapple, so Batman reached at two windowsills to slow their fall before finally caught one on the third try to break their fall.

"Batgrapple," ordered Batman. Robin used it to get them back on top of the building. Catwoman was gone. "Why didn't you grapple us up the moment we started falling?" demanded Batman. "I... don't know," Robin answered. "She probably would've had enough of a head-start anyway." "That's not the point," said Batman. "You could've gotten us killed! I don't know how you survived while I was gone." "Batgirl did get mad at me," Robin admitted. "Figures," realized Batman, as he saw that down on one absolute edge of the building lay the diamond necklace that Catwoman had dropped when Batman pounced on her.

On the drive back, Robin realized, "I see why you've had so much trouble with her." "Yes," said Batman. "Her speed and finesse play a part. So does the fact that unlike other archcriminals, she's not into risky murder, revenge, or power plays. And the fact that..." Batman immediately paused. What he was about to say was difficult for him. "...She's an attractive woman with a hold on me. She doesn't escape me because of one of these things. She does it because of _all_ of them." "Would you mind talking about that last thing?" asked Robin."Yes," refused Batman. "You're no fun," lamented Robin. But disgraceful feelings for a criminal made Batman uncomfortable.

If only Christie Whitlock or Talia al Ghul hadn't left Gotham forever. Either of those worthy ex-girlfriends would've made this so much easier.

 **Selina's perspective:**

Catwoman was done for the night. Selina Kyle had changed from suit to clothes in her car and was driving home. Just another overworked black woman who had worked late.

Selina smiled as she reflected on the fact that this was her fourth victory in row over The Batman. This time, she hadn't been able to escape with the dough, but you had your ups and downs. The important thing was that Batman couldn't seem to catch her. Just as Tom Brady had lost a couple critical quarterback duels to Eli Manning, Catwoman seemed to have the number of the best in town.

One day, she hoped to have his number in another way. She knew he felt the same way. In the meantime, Selina hoped she hadn't killed Batman and Robin. She couldn't have. They had survived worse.

Which brought Selina to a scary part. Without her claws and whip, she was vulnerable. On every drive for months, she had to fight back the feeling that Batman might know who she was and catch her out of costume. She once again told herself that she blended in too well with the three million other black women in Gotham City. The chances of him finding her were less than one in twelve thousand.

Sure enough, she returned to the apartment she shared with her best friend, Sabisia Brown. Selina sat down on the living room couch.

"How'd Catwoman do?" asked Sabisia from the other side of the couch. "Batman actually prevented the job tomorrow," admitted Selina. "I've gotta try again tomorrow." "That's OK," said Sabisia. "He still can't catch you."

Sabisia smiled lovingly. "Think you can catch _him_?" "Maybe," Catwoman smiled in return. "Unfortunately, I can confirm that the kid they say he has with him isn't a myth. He might keep Batman on the straight, narrow, and in denial of this society's sickness." "You'll find a way," assured Sabisia. "Probably," said Selina. "Even if he could catch me, it remains to be seen if he'd have the heart to throw his cat to the pound. Maybe his only escape from my charms is if some other guy does what he can't."

 **Tim Woods' perspective, three weeks ago:**

An armed and dangerous Tim Woods was prowling at night. Tim was a seasoned stalker. One of the greatest in the world, in fact. He took aim at a nocturnal creature and fired with his rifle.

Down went the raccoon. Tim walked over and picked it up. It was a he. Time to go home.

Tim showed his wife, Mary, the raccoon, rabbit, and Canadian goose he'd shot. "Good going, Tim," Mary Woods kissed him on the cheek. "You're the best hunter in Montana. Maybe the whole damn world!" "I know," said Tim. "Maybe _too_ good. These animals are getting to be boring to hunt. I haven't had one escape me in years. But I'll tell you what, honey, I've got some vacation time coming, and I plan to use it."

"What do you have in mind?" asked Mary. "We're spending that vacation in Gotham City," explained Tim. "You can take the little ones to museums. Gotham's got a lousy tradition of crime waves every five minutes. Be sure to take pictures."

"Good idea," Mary agreed. "Fun and educational. Work before fun. Just like the Bible teaches." "Me?" Tim explained what he would be doing. "I'm going after one of those costumed freaks out of a cartoon who've been showing up in the big city. Can't be Superman or Wonder Woman. Going after them is almost like going after the Lord. I'm a great hunter, not a wizard."

"I figured," said Mary. "The Batman doesn't seem nearly as powerful. Maybe you can take him" "Nah," corrected Tim. "He only seems to go after crooks. He may be a little rough and mean, but he's a hero deep down. I don't hunt heroes. Hunter's honor. But there's another one in that city kind of like him, but who took a wrong turn. The Catwoman. Prob'ly the best burglar on God's green Earth. Batman can't seem put her away, but I will... forever."

"I know why Batman can't," smiled Mary. "He's screwing Catwoman. He's wrapped around her front toe and can't bring himself to put her in jail. Catwoman's even pregnant with his kid 'cause she got him the way I finally convinced you to settle down." Tim and Mary kissed. "Now, now," said Tim. "I've warned you about listening to that tabloid shit. Whatever the case, her head's goin' on our wall and the rest of her in our bellies."

"We're eating her?" asked a surprised Mary. Tim nodded. "There's hunters in Africa who eat other people, right? And she's not even much of a person. Just remember to work on cookin' meat on a spit. She won't fit in the stove."

 **Catwoman's perspective, present time:**

Catwoman had burgled a bagful of jewels out of David's Jewelry Store. She climbed up a nearby building using her claws. If she ran into Batman and/or Robin, it was important to be too high up for them to drop on her with those grappling guns of theirs.

Suddenly, Catwoman saw a sparkle in front of her that left a hole in the concrete she was scaling. She immediately turned around and looked down to see what looked like a man with a hunting rifle. Catwoman couldn't tell from her vantage point if the rifle had a scope, but she'd barely been missed, so it probably did.

Catwoman started a pattern of dropping off, catching something to break the fall, and dropping again. This way, her assailant wouldn't have time to lock on. Eventually, she hit the ground and started running.

Soon enough, Catwoman reached and removed a manhole cover. She took a look towards her pursuer. He was wearing green hunters' clothes and taking aim. Catwoman ducked just in time to avoid the shot, then cartwheeled into the sewer.

 _C'mon Elmer Fudd, meet me down here face-to-face and in absolute darkness. You got the guts? 'Cause there's only one man in town who should._

It was at this point that Catwoman realized that she didn't have the bag of diamonds anymore. She must have dropped it in anxiety as she literally dodged a bullet and entered the sewer. Half an hour passed. The man hadn't come. She started quickly peeking out of the manhole and ducking back inside. Upon being satisfied that her pursuer had gone home, Catwoman surfaced and started looking for the bag. It wasn't there.

 _Damn! He must have taken it. He's got the last laugh after all._

 **Tim Woods' perspective:**

Tim wasn't going in the sewer after Catwoman. She had the advantage in the dark and up-close. But Tim noticed the bag of diamonds that Catwoman had left behind. That bag was how Tim would force the cowardly cat to fight.

Tim entered LaVelle's bar and began drinking. "You from the South, white country boy?" the patron in this bar's black majority sitting next to Tim asked. "The huntin' outfit gave my country thing away, huh?" replied Tim. "Actually, I'm from Montana. Not a lot of people live there. I'm waiting for Lanny LaVelle to close up. Name's Tim." He reached his hand out. "Marko," the patron shook it.

The two chatted away through the night. "OK, homies," said LaVelle. "I'm closing up." "I don't suppose you could drive me home?" asked a tipsy Marko to Tim. "I will soon enough," promised Tim. He faced LaVelle. "First, LaVelle and I have some important business to discuss." Tim now spoke to the bartender. "It involves your secret partner," LaVelle seemed unsurprised that Tim had learned this. "There's been a lot of sightings of the notorious Catwoman around here, entering this place, and even leaving without stuff she brought. And I do believe she betrayed her previous partners in crime. You must be her new friend."

"You're not the first to connect the dots, cop," said LaVelle. "Nobody's ever proved it, so get lost." "Unfortunately for you," Tim smiled sadistically at LaVelle, "I'm a game hunter, not a cop." He drove LaVelle's face into the bar counter. "Who's Catwoman?" asked Tim. "I don't know," said Lavelle. Tim drove him into the counter harder, making a crunching sound. "My nose," said LaVelle, his voice becoming nasal.

"Who?" Tim demanded again. "I swear to God, I don't know," pleaded LaVelle. "She never told me." "If I may," suggested Marko, who was still sitting on a barstool, "Why not have her come to you, Tim." "Smart idea," Tim complimented him. "I've got diamonds that she stole tonight. LaVelle, the next time you see her, tell her I've got them in the center of the woods west of this city. We'll see how the ghetto girl does on my turf." "Screw you," said LaVelle. "She's making me rich."

Taking a revolver out of his pocket, Tim said, "You wanna die for her?" "You can't do that," insisted LaVelle. "Watch me," threatened Tim. "Bats wouldn't shoot me," LaVelle gave it one last try. Tim pointed to a shelf on LaVelle's side of the counter and shot one of the bottles of alcoholic beverages. "I'm not Bats," Tim made himself clear.

"This is over stealing," said Marko. "The small crimes are where it starts," Tim began a righteous rant. "Then it's worse shit. After awhile, people are willing to do just about anything. Gotta make sure even the smaller crimes are dangerous, or you city folks will never have clean streets." "All right, psycho," LaVelle gave in. "I'll tell her. Ya happy?" "I better see her," warned Tim, "Or I'll be back, and it won't be for beer."

Tim turned to Marko. "OK, Marko, I'm a sober driver with a promise to keep." He saw that Marko was now uneasy about being driven home by Tim. "Relax," promised Tim. "You ain't game or scum so you have nothing to worry about." The two walked to Marko's car.

 **Two-Face's perspective:**

Late the very next afternoon, Two-Face and two of his eight men entered the office of the Curator of the Gotham Museum of Crime, Jane Sowell. "How can I help - I think you'd better call the hospital." Jane was referring to the horrific scarring of the left side of Two-Face's head. "Been there, done that, didn't help," said Two-Face, drawing an automatic pistol. "We figure you've hit a hidden alarm, but it won't do you any good. Some of your security guards have been paid off. The rest are dead. Now be a lady and cooperate with this stickup."

Jane had in fact hit an alarm and was raising her hands. "If you think I've hit the alarm," she said. "You must think the police will be here soon." "Oh, we know they will," said Two-Face. "Doesn't matter. They will never sacrifice a curator and several dozen tourists for a museum. They'll have no choice but to let us go. Come along. No trouble. After months of shrinks trying to elevate that pussy Harvey Dent at my expense, I'm in a bad mood!"

"I thought _you_ were Harvey Dent," said a puzzled Jane. Two-Face was angered by that, so he cocked his gun. Jane shut up.

 **Bruce's perspective:**

Sundown. Time for patrolling.

"Are we gonna try to pick up the trail of that thieving lady?" asked Dick. "Yes," said Bruce. "She's been a free woman long enough. We can't let this loose end be a sign that any criminal need not fear us."

"Ahem," Alfred interjected. "You might look out the window, dear sirs." Bruce and Dick looked out the window to see the Batsignal shining. "I don't guess we can just ignore this until we've finished our current mission, Bruce?" asked Dick nonchalantly. "Not on your life," Bruce told him what he seemed to expect to hear.

 **Catwoman's perspective:**

Catwoman wasn't suited up just yet. Since the cops suspected LaVelle of working with her, she took a look at the outside of Lavelle's bar as Selina. _No cops tonight. Let's do this._

Lavelle came to his office in the back to see a suited-up Catwoman sitting in his chair, boots on his desk. "I was chased by some white trash hunter from the country and dropped the diamonds getting away," she said. "Sorry, pal." "I know," said LaVelle.

Catwoman was surprised to hear that. "You know?" she asked. "How?" "He paid me a visit last night." explained LaVelle. "He challenges you to meet him in the woods west of town. says he has the diamonds and that if you don't go after him, he'll come after me."

"So that's his game," said Catwoman. "Fine. He wants me? He should be more careful what he wishes for."

"He knows the woods," warned LaVelle. "You don't." "I know," Catwoman nodded. "But he's taken diamonds that I worked hard to get. He'll have to skin this cat alive to keep them!" "I think that's the idea," said LaVelle. But Catwoman's mind was made up.

 **Batman's perspective:**

"Is this about Catwoman?" Batman surprised Commissioner Gordon from behind on top of the GCPD. "No," said Gordon, clutching his chest. "It's much more serious than her. Two-Face is back in town. He's taken over the Gotham Museum of Crime. We've surrounded it, but he's kidnapped dozens of civilians and the curator. We can't risk deaths or capitulate to the robberies he's no doubt committed." "Guess we're the third option," realized Robin. "Let's go," said Batman as the two descended off the roof to the Batmobile.

"One more reason I haven't put Catwoman behind bars yet," said Batman. "Bigger cases than her capers keep coming up." "No wonder I hadn't run into her until the other night. I thought we were done with Two-Face." "Apparently his bad side dominated again," said Batman.

"I'm really tired of these repeats," said Robin. "Me too," said Batman. "Do you think we do more harm than good?" asked Robin. "It's occurred to me," admitted Batman. "But when one of these psychopaths isn't on the lose, crime rates are down. If we keep putting them away, they'll eventually realize that they can't beat us, accept treatment, and get back on the straight and narrow... I hope."

"What we could do..." began Robin. "Don't say it," interrupted Batman. "Don't even think it. We're never stooping to their level."

 **Mary's perspective:**

Mary Woods was ducking down with her son, Dave, and daughter, Kate, hugging her in the museum. "It'll be alright," Mary tried to assure them. But it really wasn't. They were trapped in a place that had been taken over by a madmen. Guns were trained on them and other nearby civilians.

Mary was a strong girl, hardened by years of hard country life. She bet that she could take these guys if they didn't have guns. Wishful thinking. If only Tim knew about this, he could probably rescue his wife, children, and the rest of Two-Face's hostages. But he was off Catwoman hunting and Mary's kidnappers had taken her phone.

 **Batman's perspective:**

Batman and Robin had sneaked inside the made their way to the fuse box. "Reality check," said Robin. "Even if we kill the lights, they still have hostages." "But we'll be able to take them out unseen," said Batman, cutting fuses with a Batarang.

 **Mary's perspective:**

The lights were out.

"Don't panic and shoot the hostages," said one criminal. Little did they know that Mary was no helpless bystander. She had been trained to defend the farm she grew up on. She had even gone on a couple of her husband's hunting trips, though he didn't like hunting with women, so that was it. "Whatever happens, Stay here," whispered Mary to her children.

Mary slowly and softly walked behind one of the five men who were now holding both a pistol and flashlight. She snatched away the pistol from behind and just after he'd spun around to face Mary, she'd shot him in the gut.

Mary immediately ran and dived behind a nearby exhibit, then took turns peeking out of cover, shooting, and getting back in cover. Though she had been trained to defend a farm as a girl, the kidnappers seemed to have no knowledge of what to do with a gun except threaten people with it.

 _Easy pickings._

 **Catwoman's perspective:**

Catwoman wasn't stupid; she knew that an outdoorsman who nearly killed her in Gotham would have an overwhelming advantage in the sticks. Catwoman stuck to the trees. Hopefully, that would even the odds.

Suddenly, she saw that on the last leap betweeh trees, she'd disturbed a cougar. Rare in the Northeast if Catwoman wasn't mistaken. It was hissing. Catwoman didn't need this. If this animal kept making noises for a protracted period of time, it might attract the dick with Catwoman's diamonds.

 _Guess I'm gonna see just how good with cats I am._

Catwoman made a sweet humming sound. It worked on household cats, at least. But Selina Kyle hadn't had a cat in nine months, by far the longest period of her life. She hoped that hadn't made her rusty.

The cougar stopped hissing. Not only that, it had gone from violently afraid to confused. Catwoman cautiously patted the branch that the cougar was standing on and it slowly walked towards her. Catwoman began petting the animal and within ten seconds, it had started purring.

 _Barely harder to earn its trust than those you'd buy in a store. I've still got it!_ Catwoman took a look across the underbelly of the cougar. A dude. "Handsome guy," she started talking to the cougar in a soft, sweet tone. "What should I name you?" She snapped her fingers as she reached a decision. "Caesarion. Ruler of all of Egypt except for his mama, Cleopatra. And you are the king of all cats in this country. But still second to me. No, no, you're not quite the cat I am. No, you're not, no, you're not."

Suddenly, Caesarion looked down at the ground. He looked tense. "What is it?" Catwoman asked as she looked down. It was the hunter. He looked up at Catwoman and Caesarion, taking aim at the latter. "Don't," shouted Catwoman. "Cougars are an endangered species here!" "I got ethics," assured the hunter. "But why worry about that big furball when you're my target, anyhow?" After a jolt of the gun, the hunter fired his gun. Catwoman screamed in pain as she fell thirty-eight feet to the ground.

Somehow, Catwoman was alive, though with a throbbing pain in her forehead. The hunter had to shoot through the tree. Passing through it must have lessened the impact of the bullet. Like that really mattered; she was groggy and couldn't even get up easily. In fact, the hunter was within several meters. Catwoman grunted in frustration as she realized her fate. After how proud she was that Batman couldn't catch her, in the end, it was a stranger from across the country who was about to wipe her out!

"Name's Tim Woods," the hunter gave a late introduction. "Does it matter?" asked Catwoman. "Yeah," Tim realized what Catwoman was talking about. "I could pull the trigger and may God have mercy on your soul! But I'm a hunter... not a murderer." He hung his rifle over his shoulder. "Your martial arts knowledge and athletic ability are second only to The Batman himself. But we'll see if the damage I did makes the difference."

Tim charged in. Catwoman's eyes saw the right cross coming a mile away, but her body had slowed down too much to avoid it. She staggered back a few steps. She answered back with a claw strike. Ordinarily, this would leave scrapes that would require medical attention. Instead, Tim wasn't even bleeding. A knee to the hip and uppercut under the chin had catwoman down. Tim must have known that he had all but won because he waited the eight seconds it took for Catwoman to get back up.

Catwoman couldn't win. She needed to run, hide, and rest for the hour or so it would take to recuperate. But after a bit of running, Tim cut her off. "You're goin' nowhere," said Tim. Catwoman tried a snap kick to the head, but Tim caught it and tossed her into a tree by the outstretched leg. Catwoman stood up but a roundhouse punch left her unable to do much besides lie down.

 _If only I were at even half strength, I'd kick his inbred ass!_ It was true; Tim was a a great gunman but a below average hand-to-hand combatant. And still beating a weakened Catwoman badly physically, worse mentally. Lifting Catwoman up by the shoulders, Tim gloated, "Pleasant dreams, sweetheart," then headbutted her.

The lights went out.

 **Batman's perspective:**

Batman and Robin found some hostages, unconscious thugs and one armed woman. "Just needed to get the drop on them," said the woman. "Mom's not with them," said a boy who stood next to the woman. "Good job," said Batman. "You guard the hostages in case more come. You're not safe yet." Robin gave the lady a thumbs up sign as the two reached the elevator.

"Wait," said Batman. "Two-Face was a very clever prosecutor." He entered the elevator and hit the "Up" button. "Move," shouted Batman, running away from the elevator with Robin following. A few seconds later, they heard an explosion and the elevator fell to the basement. "That's why you're the boss," said Robin, lightly slapping Batman on the back. They used their Batgrapples to get up the elevator shaft.

Batman sensed movement behind the door leading to the Curator's office. "They're in there," he whispered at the door. "We barge in on three. One... two... three!" They charged, breaking through the door.

A right cross and headbutt took out one man. A back-handed punch felled another. Robin took out one more with a snap kick to the hip, another to the shoulder, and a roundhouse kick to the face.

Only Two-Face was left. He pointed his pistol at the female Curator, Jane Sowell, and flipped a silver dollar. "The two of us know what side came up," Two-Face referred to his alternate personalities. "But nobody else. Here's the deal. You get the blue-haired suits to get us a helicopter out of here, and don't try to stop us or or we shoot somebody. If the coin landed on its clean side, it's one of those incompetents you knocked out. If it was the scratched side, it's the bitch in a suit."

Batman looked over to Robin and didn't like what he saw. "No, Robin," Batman commanded. "Don't misjudge..." but Robin was already throwing a Batarang. Two-Face swung his gun to deflect the Batarang and shot at the chest of one of the two men Batman had knocked out.

Robin panted in shock and seemed to lose sense of what was going on. Batman Bataranged the gun out of Two-Face's hand just before he would have shot Robin dead, then charged in to punch Two-Face three times. Two-Face responded with a haymaker that rocked Batman back. Attempting to charge in to capitalize on his momentum, Two-Face was instead shoved face-first into the wall. A running jump kick wrapped this up.

Jane knew that there was one important thing left to do: she dialed 911 on her phone. "I need an ambulance at the Gotham Museum of Crime." Batman tore a strip off an expensive drape, and told Jane to apply pressure. "There's nothing more we can do for him," Batman explained to Robin. "We're going."

Two-Face's injured henchman didn't make it. He was escorted out in a body bag. Batman and Robin saw this from the roof. "I'm sorry, Batman," said Robin. "I hope so," said Batman. "You know Two-Face is psychotic. What made you think he wouldn't carry out his threat. Because you jumped the gun, someone died, and it could have been an innocent person."

"Are you suspending me again?" asked Robin. "Yes," said Batman. "This time, it's for an entire month. If you let me down again, Robin will never fly again. Understand?" "Yeah," said Robin. "Sorry again."

 **Catwoman's perspective:**

Catwoman awakened to find herself being shaken. She was sitting in a chair in a cabin, her wrists manacled to it. Her mask was off. "You know," said Tim. "Unmaskings are a tad overrated. I still don't know who you are, just what you look like. It's a start. Don't bother calling for help. We're still in the woods."

"Why did you bother tying me up and taking off my mask?" asked Catwoman. "Because since this kill can talk," Tim referred to Catwoman, "I want us to understand each other first."

That opened the door for a deal. This guy may have been talented, but judging from his rugged look and clothes, he couldn't have much. "We can begin with what I have to offer you," Catwoman tried to open negotiations. "Nuh-uh-uh," said Tim. "What I want is your head on my wall and your carcass in my belly. No more, no less."

That sent a chill down Catwoman's spine. "You mean you're gonna eat me?" she asked. "No," said Tim. "My family will." This was clearly a crazy person she was dealing with. He might not be so negotiable after all, but it still seemed to be Catwoman's only chance for survival.

"If you'll stick to deer heads and steaks for awhile," Catwoman tried this again, "I can get you a lot of dough. I also have connections in the Gotham underworld." "I don't doubt you can buy your way out of trouble in the city, Catwoman," said Tim, "But where I come from, we take crime seriously." "I'm only a cat burglar," said Catwoman. "Burglary is a gateway to other crimes," said Tim. "But as a Christian gentleman, I'll give you five minutes to silently confess your sins to the Lord."

"Doesn't the Bible say, 'Thou shalt not kill?" Catwoman reminded him. "So you waive your rights," said Tim, picking up his rifle and taking aim. Catwoman strained to get out of her manacles. No luck. The barrel of Tim's gun was a straight line from her.

Suddenly, Caesarion broke through a window and dived at Tim. Before Tim could shoot he was knocked down and his gun came loose from his grasp. He tried to retrieve it, but Catwoman, leaning all the way forward to lift up the chair so she could slowly move, got a foot on the gun. "Now we see how well you can handle your prey without a gun," taunted Catwoman. Tim was tackled by Caesarion and slowly losing ground in his wrestling match with Caesarion's jaws.

"My how the tables have turned," Catwoman shouted to be heard over Caesarion's roaring. "The hunter's the hunted. You promise to leave Gotham forever and keep my face a secret, and I might be able to call my knight in shining armor off." "I ain't goin' out like that," declared Tim.

Catwoman's heart sank. She'd never killed before and besides, Batman had made the argument to her that once you crossed that line, you were never the same. Catwoman was not sure that Batman was wrong. Yet if she stopped Caesarion, Tim had made it clear that he was going to try to kill Catwoman again, and she'd needed help to survive this attempt.

Caesarion's teeth finally reached Tim's neck. He howled in pain. Catwoman looked away and tried to block out the screams of pain she was hearing.

Although she felt awful for a moment, this got easier for Catwoman in a few seconds. Because she knew that it was too late. When Caesarion had eaten all of Tim that he wanted, Catwoman looked around. There were the key to the manacles, mask and bag of diamonds. Within seconds, she was home free.

Or almost home free because she heard a car driving up. This must have been the family Tim was talking about. Catwoman helped Caesarion back through the window and the woman and wild cat retreated back into the thick of the forest.

"Thank you, handsome prince," said a grateful Catwoman. "I won't forget you." But Caesarion looked at her lovingly and meowed. "Are you saying you want to come home with me? asked Catwoman. Seemed like it.

"Why not?"

 **Mary's perspective:**

Mary and her children were home again, having escaped the clutches of Two-Face. They entered their cabin to see that Tim, the man of the house, had not been so lucky. Everyone gasped as the saw that Tim's face, neck, and chest were all chewed up. Mary heard footsteps outside, so she looked out the window just in time to see The Catwoman and a cougar escaping deep into the forest. Mary and her children cried together. Tim finally bit off more than he could chew. And Mary knew that it was partly her fault for letting her husband do this.

Mary's duties to her distraught children came first. She had to teach them how to live without their father. But when she had, Catwoman would pay!

 **Selina's perspective:**

Catwoman had sold the diamonds to LaVelle and then changed to Selina. Sabisia was surprised to see Selina return with a cougar. "His name's Caesarion," Selina introduced him. "After Cleopatra's second. He saved my life tonight." Selina sat down on the couch and began petting Caesarion. "We can't keep him," said Sabisia. "Why not?" asked Selina. "As you can see, I've got him trained. We just have to keep him hidden. And if there's one thing I know how to do, it's hide. Wanna pet him?" Sabisia reached out, but Caesarion started growling. "Well, maybe there's more to do," admitted Selina.

A bit later, Caesarion was ready to lie down. Sabisia finally asked, "What's wrong, Selina?" "Nothing," denied Selina. "Come on, girlfriend," Sabisia saw otherwise. "I can see that you don't feel right."

Selina sighed. "I'm not a killer, yet I let Caesarion chomp my assailant." "What could you do?" consoled Sabisia. "He was Hell-bent on killing you. You did the right thing." "Still feels pretty wrong," said Selina.

"Follow me," said Sabisia. She lead Selina to the balcony of their apartment. "Look out there," Sabisia reminded her. "Lots of those people want to kill others. Should those others let that happen. No, no, no!"

Selina felt a little better. Only a little.


	19. Top Suspect: Superman

**The Hog's perspective, a week ago:**

Metropolis, City of Tomorrow. That was where Becky "The Hog" Traylor had gotten her latest business proposal from. She was meeting with Lex Luthor, richest man on Earth, and next to master scientist Emil Hamilton, the man most responsible for the town's technical superiority. So what could he possibly want with a crime family from the not-so-affluent South?

"So how hard is it to be a fat woman?" asked Luthor. "If you think Ah'm outta shape," suggested The Hog, "Arm wrestle me." "I'll do it, Lex," said Mercy Graves, Luthor's bodyguard and chauffeur. "Won't be necessary," said Luthor. "You're outmatched by her as well."

Luthor moved in close. "In case you haven't noticed," he promised, "I'm not prejudiced against round women." The Hog knew that many ladies were drawn in by his money, power, and well-trimmed body, complete with a shiny bald head.

"Charmed," The Hog held up her hand so Luthor kissed it. "Let me talk about you, Lex. They say you're one of those charitable rich philanthropists. They don't know the real you, do they?" The Hog's smile turned into a smirk.

"At least most don't know," Luthor whispered into The Hog's ear. "You can't say the same about youself." Yes, she had been found out. The authorities only needed to prove her gunrunning family business. "Point taken," she admitted. "But if Ah'm so sloppy, what do you want with me?"

"There is one I want to deal with," answered Luthor. "And in return I will deliver The Batman's body. If you want his heart and soul, that can also be arranged." "Maybe," blushed The Hog. She was surprised that Luthor seemed aware of her attraction to Batman. That hadn't made the news, meaning that only a few knew of it.

"But first, I want you to get someone for me." "Just so you know," The Hog laid out the limits, "We Traylors have rules. If you want that Lane bitch, she's married. We don't mess with other people's marriages. Ah'll kill 'er but Ah won't mess with her marriage."

"Oh, no," said Luthor. "I'm well over her. I'm talking about Superman. He's brought my favorability ratings down to 63% and sinking a little more every year. Has Metropolisians thinking they're something without me. More and more politicians are falling out of my pocket. Even the lower suits here at LexCorp think they're ready to strike out on their own."

The Hog was floored by what she heard. "You want me to kill Superman? Uh-uh. Not The Hog. You want me to go after The Flash, fine. Just gotta get behind him. But bullets bounce off Supes. It ain't never gonna work."

"Coward," mocked Mercy. "Wanna test that?" challenged The Hog. "No need to argue, ladies," said Luthor calmly. "Fear not, Mrs. Traylor. I'm not asking you to kill him yourself. Just implicate him in a serious crime. Any will do as long as people think the super-freak is responsible."

The Hog still wasn't sure. "If you just wanna frame 'im, why don't you do it yourself?" "They won't immediately arrest a so-called hero," explained Luthor. "Meaning that if his 'crime' is committed here, I'm as much of a suspect as him. But if it's in Gotham, a city I have little influence in outside my Lex-Marts, I won't be suspected of anything. And since he's only been there once or twice, neither will you."

"Makes sense," The Hog finally realized. "But Ah want an insurance policy." "Play it carefully," demanded Luthor. "I have no way of defending you from him if he finds out." "Aw c'mon," The Hog saw otherwise. "You wouldn't be fightin' him if you didn't have a backup plan. You're way too smart"

"All right," said Luthor. "Follow me." He took The Hog to LexCorp Lab. "Dr. Fung," Luthor commanded what seemed to be his head scientist. "Get me one of the rocks of Kryptonite." "Mm-mm," said The Hog, putting her hands on her broad hips and looking hard at Luthor. "Ah want the good stuff. Or no deal." Luthor looked at her. "I'm not getting pushed around by a fat woman who should be cleaning one of my houses that I'm never in."

The Hog relished Luthor's refusal, though she could have done without the insult. "Finally, the real Lex. Do you want Supes to be your superior forever? Ah know you can't stand bein' second best.""It's not going to work," Luthor put his foot down. "And it gets worse, cue ball," said The Hog to Luthor. "He's got Super-Hearing and X-Ray Vision. How long do you think it'll take before he books you and has a good laugh at your expense?" The Hog did the best impression of a male laugh she could to illustrate.

Luthor snapped his fingers Dr. Fung walked away to get something. _And Lex thought to use his masculine charms to make me agreeable? The worm's turned. He may be possibly the smartest guy around, but that's his weakness. He's got a very male willingness to do anything to get back at his enemies, includin' makin' a sweet deal with me._

Fung returned with a lead box. Opening it, he showed The Hog a red rock of Kryptonite. "This infects the alien with a variable mutation," explained Fung. "Sounds fun," said The Hog. "But I'd like schematics on this other shit you've got."

"You're really pushing it," said Luthor. But even as he said that, The Hog knew he'd cave soon enough.

 **Bruce's perspective:**

The top executives of Wayne Enterprises were meeting. Vice President Lucius Fox was showing everybody a video presentation. "And so," concluded Lucius. "Losing the technology race is where LexCorp is beating us. We can start by catching up to them in cybernetics." "Agreed," said Bruce Wayne. "Luthor figured it out first," said a skeptical young executive named Nathan Portmann. "It'll take a least a year to catch up." "You have four months," Bruce said sternly. "Meeting adjourned."

Bruce returned to his office to do paperwork and check on recent crimes. He discovered reports of a murder but everything pointed to the police allowing the press to know nothing about it. In fact, Detective Harvey Bullock even reportedly denied that it was a murder before Lieutenant Marc Freeman, who was overseeing the investigation, confirmed that the victim was in fact dead.

In short, everything pointed to a cover-up. But why? That was what The Batman would find out.

 **Batman's perspective:**

Batman opened Freeman's window carefully and said, "What are you hiding?" Freeman was startled. "The Commissioner's right. You do like to sneak up on people." "The murder case you've kept a lid on," demanded Batman.

Freeman thought for a moment. "No," he said. "I can't let any member of the public know about this. Not even you. You're out of your depth." "I've often been able to get to the bottom of these things very quickly," Batman reminded him. " And I can keep secrets. Surely you're confident in my abilities." "In this case," said Freeman, "Not really... but I guess you can't hurt matters. Just remember: if you let word of this get out, you're in big trouble. Understand?" Batman nodded.

"We've found a dead man," said Freeman. "Who?" asked Batman. "Not entirely sure, although we suspect that he's connected to the mysterious mob unions. But that's not the problem anymore. You ever heard of Superman?" "The all-powerful being from Metropolis?" asked Batman.

"Yeah," confirmed Freeman. "The victim's skull was crushed, his ribs broken. Witnesses saw Superman flying from the crime scene. We found a rock of Kryptonite covered by crushed lead beside the body. By the way, Kryptonite is an irradiated rock that's no more than the flu to us but deadly to him, since it's from his solar system." "I know," said Batman. "How?" asked a surprised Freeman. "That's not important," Batman tried to get the conversation back on track.

"Self-defense?" asked Batman, knowing that this wouldn't be a big deal in that case. "Doesn't look like it," explained Freeman. "This can't be an accident." "So the fact that Superman's regarded as the greatest hero on Earth is the reason for the secrecy?" asked Batman.

"That and I can't be sure," said Freeman. "Leaving Kryptonite behind? Crushing his skull _and_ ribs? He may not be Neil deGrasse Tyson, but he ain't Peter Griffin either."

"But what if it's not stupidity?" theorized Batman. "What if the demigod is too arrogant to conceive that you're unwilling or incapable of doing anything about this? Or maybe he was so spoiled by his invulnerability that when he discovered that someone had an answer for it, he panicked?"

"Took the words right out my mouth," said Freeman. "But that's not all, Batman. But I can't risk turning the masses against him unless I'm sure." "I might be able to help you there," volunteered Batman. "I can interrogate him tomorrow night. I'll get the truth."

"How the Hell can you do that?" asked a surprised Freeman. "He doesn't let us know anything about him, just like you." "Just wait for my call," explained Batman, heading out the window. "I think you need backup to..." began Freeman, but Batman was allready out of the room.

After Batman returned to the Batcave and explained everything to Alfred, the Wayne Butler asked, "But how are you going to find him?" "I know who he really is," explained Batman.

"You do, sir?"

"I knew years ago that it was dangerous to assume he'd never turn against society. I have a contingency plan. It began with tracking Superman on a flight home and watching him undress."

"You never were this paranoid before Tom and Martha died."

"Recent events have justified that 'paranoia.'"

Batman sat down at the Batcomputer, which he used to jam the signal of the call he was going to make. If Superman was innocent, this was none of the NSA's business.

 **Lois Kent's perspective:**

Another sleep, another early awakening. She'd thought these sleepless nights were over when she married Clark. But it being impossible to kidnap her without her husband knowing hadn't changed a thing.

"Hello?" she answered the phone call. "I want your husband on the line," said a man with a ridiculously deep voice. "He's helping our friend Jimmy with something at the moment," said Lois. This was the part of the marriage she hated: having to lie for Clark.

"Let me guess," said the man on the other line. "The earthquake in China." _How the Hell'd he..._ "He's not on vacation," Lois kept trying. "Drop the act, Kent," said the caller. "I know what your husband does during lunch breaks and sundowns. This is Batman. From Gotham City. I need to see him on the Clock Tower of Gotham tomorrow night."

Lois' blood ran colder upon hearing that. "How do you know?" "Because I take an interest in all friends and foes, and your husband has a potential for both," explained Batman "Make sure he meets me tomorrow at the Clock Tower."

Lois thought for a moment. "What do you want from him?" she demanded, trying to show she wasn't intimidated. "Don't ask questions," said Batman. "Just see to it he's there... or the whole world finds out who he is."

"Guilt?" asked Lois in surprise. "For what?" Batman hung up.

Superman came home soon enough. "You're up late," said Superman. "First of all," said Lois with a smirk, "I'm the higher earner of the family. If I want a be a night owl, I'm a night owl. I kid. An asshole called me. An asshole named The Batman."

"He wants you to interview him?" asked Superman. "Fine. Just make sure he knows you're Clark Kent's wife. "Actually," said Lois, "He wants you." "You mean he knows that Clark and Superman are the same man?" snapped Superman. Lois nodded.

"He expects you to meet him tomorrow night," explained Lois. "He's threatening to spill the beans." "What does he want?" asked Superman. "He didn't say," said Lois apologetically.

"I have no idea of what to make of him," said Superman. "Maybe he wants to help. Maybe he wants to kill me." "Relax," said Lois. "He's just a normal guy." "You taught me a long time ago not to underestimate humans, Lois," said Superman with joyless excitement. "In a more negative way, so did Lex Luthor and The Toyman. Batman's not dumb. He won't try to ambush me without a good plan. Whatever happens, I will always love you, Lois." The Couple embraced and kissed.

 **Batman's perspective:**

Batman was waiting for his alien suspect with a great deal of trepidation. He wasn't foolish. He knew that even with his secret weapon, Superman was by far the most dangerous adversary Batman had faced yet! The man in red and blue could lift mountains and fly at escape velocity, and he would likely be prepared for the weapon Batman was going to use. Batman was constantly looking around. Couldn't afford to be caught off guard and if he revealed his hand, Superman would catch it with his Telescopic Vision. Had to remember not to walk around, too. Superman seemed able to hear everything in a radius the size of Montana!

Finally, Batman caught a glimpse of Superman flying towards him from outside city limits. Landing on the building a good distance away, Superman asked, "What's so important that it worth making threats over, Mr. Wayne?"

Batman was surprised. He was sure the plating he had under his mask would impair Superman's eyes. "You checked," said Batman gruffly. "It's only fair," declared Superman. "You know who I am; I know who you are. And for future reference, only try to hide things from me with lead." "Noted," said Batman. He walked towards Superman.

This was a classic standoff. Two legendary men. One human. One alien. One pragmatic. The other kind. "What do you want from me?" asked Superman. "There's been a murder in the area," explained Batman. "Everything points to you." "I would never take a human life," said Superman. "Unfortunate choice of words," said Batman. "Because I do believe you have killed." He was referring to General Zod, the Kryptonian terrorist whose neck had been broken by Superman.

"Zod was about to kill hundreds of people," insisted Superman, clearly still feeling awful about the incident. "I had no choice." "So you took it upon yourself to inflict the ultimate punishment for something that never happened," pointed out an unconvinced Batman. "Technically, that was in cold blood." "Well, I didn't have an affair with a criminal," said Superman, obviously meaning The Catwoman. He'd clearly done his homework himself. "What about Maxima?" asked Batman. "She only chased me," Superman set the record straight. "I assure you, I'm a loyal husband."

"We could keep arguing," realized Batman, "But it won't get us anywhere. I need to know who committed this murder." "Let's say it _was_ me?" asked Superman. "How would you bring me to justice?" "I can stop you, trust me," said Batman. "I didn't kill," insisted Superman. "Lois will back me up on watching TV with her in Metropolis the other night." Dealing with criminals had taught Batman how to read people. Superman's denial seemed legitimate.

"Do you believe me?" asked Superman. "Or do you need to set in motion whatever plan you think can take me out?"

"I'm fifty-eight percent sure that you're innocent."

"I'll help with the other forty-two."

"Then we investigate."

"Let me get into my car and we'll leave."

"No offense, but we'll go faster if you'll let me carry you."

"Who said I trusted you?"

Batman opted to drive the Batmobile with Superman flying over it. They went to the murder scene. "'You' were witnessed here," explained Batman. "The killer crushed a gangster's skull, broke his ribs, and left behind Kryptonite covered in crushed lead." "I wouldn't be that obvious," said Superman. "I'll be the judge of that," declared Batman.

"I'm noticing vapor trails leading into the sky," said Superman. "How can you tell?" asked Batman. "Detectives Bullock and Montoya used their own equpment and couldn't find it." "Apparently, technology hasn't caught up with my X-Ray Vision," figured Superman. "Want a lift to where the trail leads?" "I'll follow on the ground," said Batman. "For all I know, you're making all this up."

They reached a small building. "Looks like an illicit gun store," said Superman. "You go on ahead," said Batman, wanting to minimize the danger of stepping into a trap. "No killing." "Perish the thought," Superman assured him.

They entered the place and saw a lot of thugs. Batman recognized someone who, if not for two or three days' growth of facial hair, would have looked a lot like Superman. It was looking more and more like the Man of Steel had been framed.

"Shoot 'em," shouted a leader. Batman hid under his protective cape. As he already knew, Superman needed nothing to withstand bullets. In time, all the thugs ran out of ammo. Batman and Superman began whittling down numbers. Batman noticed that Superman wasn't a particularly good combatant, knowing only basic boxing. Of course, with the amazing strength and speed he was displaying, he could afford to be a second-rate warrior.

"Good going," Superman offered a high five. Instead of slapping Superman's hand, Batman asked, as he revived the man who looked mostly like Superman and asked, "Did you impersonate Superman?" "N-no," claimed the man hesitatingly. Batman got totally in his face and snorted loudly. "OK," confessed the man. "Ah did." "Who ordered you?" asked Batman. "Ah can't say," said the man. Batman say that he feared his boss more than Batman. Punching him out, Batman and Superman searched the place.

Superman broke open a crate to reveal a blue suit, gloves, a red cape and boots, and a jet pack. "Just like what I wear," realized Superman. "Except I don't do gloves." Batman took a look at the gloves. "I wonder..." he suspected. Sure enough, a little scanning with his Battablet revealed that the gloves were electronic. "Jet pack and powered gloves. Now we know where the murderer's strength and flight came from. And, yes, I officially believe you're innocent."

"That's good to hear," said Superman."Any ideas on who killed and tried to ruin my good name?" "They sounded Southern," said Batman. "They were," said Superman. Batman looked at him. "Trust me," Superman. "I go South to save people from hurricanes and help fix the lost homes every fall. I know Southern accents."

"There's one Southerner in town capable of this," reasoned Batman. "Gunrunning boss Becky 'The Hog' Traylor." "Who's she?" asked Superman. "One of the most dangerous people in the world," explained Batman. "The rare female crime boss. Weighs about two fifty, most of it muscle. Has a huge crush on me." Superman whistled and smiled.

"That is not funny," said Batman under his breath. "Has anyone ever told you that you need a sense of humor?" asked Superman. "No..." began Batman. "...Well, other than my butler... and foster son... and company Vice President... Detective Bullock... a few office workers of Bruce Wayne's."

"They're right," said Superman. "You can work on that tomorrow, Batman. Let's get this Hog character and put her away." "It's not that easy," said Batman. "I've never gotten anything on her and you've seen that nobody in her organization talks on her." "So you just gave up," Superman frowned. "I'm disappointed." Then he vanished.

No. That was not strictly true. He must have used super speed to leave literally faster than the eye could follow. No doubt Superman was trying to arrest The Hog. Knowing her, she had a backup plan to deal with Superman like Batman did. He had to get to Country Buffet fast!

 **Superman's perspective:**

Superman had quickly checked addresses. The only Becky Traylor in Gotham City was the owner of a restaurant called Country Buffet. A fitting title for a Southern business.

Superman's X-Ray Vision enabled him to see into the entire restaurant. There was upstairs office with a large, round woman inside. Batman pegged Becky "The Hog" Traylor at two hundred fifty pounds. This must have been her.

The window was closed. There was no barrier on Earth that could keep the Man of Steel out, though he was polite enough to knock first, especially for a lady. The Hog got something out of a desk drawer and pocketed it before walking over to Superman with a pleasant smile and opened the window for him.

The Hog sat back down in her chair and faced Superman, still smiling. _She's not the least bit afraid. She must be up to something. But how could she possibly be prepared for a man with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men._

"Hello, madam," said Superman. "A gentleman. That's somethin' Ah ain't come to expect in a Yankee city. And Ah can tell from your accent that you're from the country. And handsome." "Not interested," said Superman. "Or available, for that matter." "Just as well," chuckled The Hog. "Ah got my eye on one of the locals here and Ah ain't disloyal."

"Batman said you had a crush on him," recalled Superman. "Sometimes in more ways than one," said The Hog, doing a muscle pose in her chair. "Whatever does it for you," said Superman. "I've been framed and a man's been killed." "Yeah, Ah know about that gun store you boys shut down." "Then you admit your involvement?" asked Superman pointedly. "To a boy scout like you?" asked The Hog. "Absolutely."

 _This woman is very, very confident. What's her secret?_ "Since Batman's your main enemy and since he's the one you like," asked Superman, "Why'd you target me?" "Ah didn't target you," The Hog corrected. "Lex did."

Lex as in Luthor? Of course! "Him again?" asked Superman. "Sho' is," explained The Hog. "Lex is jealous of your power and afraid of you. He wants me to deal with you. He promises to get me my Dark Knight in return."

"Then you're a fool," Superman tried to reason with The Hog. "Lex Luthor has no ethics. He only cares about himself. I don't know what you're planning, but he'd kill you before you capitalize on your fame as the woman who killed Superman." "Ah know," said The Hog. "It's actually me usin' him. He may be one of the smartest people in the world, but his macho rivalry with you's his undoin'. Ah talked him into givin' up some of his technological secrets. When Ah'm done with you and little bat, Ah'm ready to literally break him in half!"

"I'll do the breaking, thank you very much," said Superman. "If you'll take my hand, it's time to stand trial for murder." "You ain't got nuthin' on me," challenged The Hog with glee. "Not much," Superman admitted. "But I don't give up easily. What if the reason Batman hasn't put you away is he never tried? Maybe if I just take you in, the DA will find a way to make it stick. I'll never know unless I try."

The Hog was making no move to give herself up. Grabbing her by the coat of her suit, Superman lifted her up above his head. "We're going," he said. Reaching into her pocket, The Hog pulled out a lead box. It was a red rock. "Kryptonite?" asked Superman. "A particular kind," grinned The Hog. Superman felt himself getting smaller and smaller until he was holding onto The Hog for dear life.

The Hog pulled Superman off her by... a tail? Smiling playfully, The Hog showed Superman his reflection in an inactive phone. "Noooo," Superman yelled in horror as he saw that he was now a rat in a superhero's suit. "Surprised you can still talk, Superrat," cackled The Hog. "But your voice is kinda shitty now. Just bein' honest." "I still have my powers," declared Superman bravely, releasing Freeze Breath onto The Hog. But all this did was make her shiver. She was supposed to be frozen solid in the spot Superman had blown on!

The Hog was angry. Unfortunately for Superman, she wasn't hurt, just cold. She covered Superman's entire body with both hands and squeezed. Superman cried out in pain as he felt bones everywhere about to break!

The Hog took her left hand off Superman, still holding him up with the other. The left index finger was placed over Superman's heart. "What do you say?" asked The Hog sternly. "Sorry," Superman said reluctantly. "Like Ah said," smiled The Hog. "A gentlerat. What made you think that'd work? You're teeny. So are your powers, dumb shit."

"Laugh it up," began Superman. "It's not over until..." his heroic speech was interrupted by the door opening. "You in trouble?" asked a bearded man. "You're late, big brother," said The Hog. She turned to Superman. "This is my brother, Al. Al, meet the rat formerly known as Superman." Al laughed until The Hog placed her index finger and thumb on opposite sides of Superman's head. "She's not joking," said Superman. "Happy, lady?"

"Much," said The Hog, who turned to Al. "Long as you're here, make yourself useful and get a glass." Al went to The Hog's silverware cabinet and got a glass. Superman and the red Kryptonite were placed under the glass. _I don't think I've been in this tight a spot! If I could just get away from the red Kryptonite for a few hours._

"What do we do with him, sis?" asked Al. "We ransom him to the cops and superheroes. Our price is they look the other way." "They won't agree," insisted Superman. He wasn't actually sure. He just thought that it was the right thing to say. "You underestimate your importance," said The Hog. "How cute."

Suddenly, a figure from behind the Southern gangsters banged their heads together. Al was down. The Hog was not. Batman knocked The Hog against a wall with two jabs and a right cross. The Hog kicked Batman away as he tried to follow up, but seeing that he'd built up some distance, he grabbed Superman out from under the glass (which he let tip over and break) and started to run out, but immediate turned back around when he heard machine gunfire from behind.

Al was holding a MAC-10. "That was an $80 glass, you sumbitch," complained The Hog. "You're lucky Ah like you." "Never mind that," said Al. "You better let us chain your ass up. Ah can hit a bird from miles away." "It's true," said The Hog. "Ah've seen 'im do birds that were up in the sky without a scope. Give up, little bat. Don't hurt us both."

Batman and Al were locked in a stare-down. Superman saw that the only light that was on was the lamp on The Hog's desk. He fired his Heat Vision on the bulb. "1..." began Al. The light was still on. Rat or not, Superman had to give it his all. It was their only chance. "2..." Superman was tensing every muscle to increase the power of the heat beams.

Suddenly, the lightbulb shattered. Batman moved to the side just before he would have been layered with bullets, then jumped out the window.

 **Bruce's perspective:**

The next morning, Bruce, Dick Grayson, and an again Superman were all on the lawn of the Wayne Manor. Superman used Freeze Breath to freeze a board solid, then thawed it out with Heat Vision. "I'd say I'm fit as a fiddle," said Superman. "Thanks, Bruce." He held up a hand. "Give him five," suggested Dick. Bruce did so, then grunted in pain.

"I'm sorry," apologized Superman. "Guess I'm not entirely used to being human again after all. Let me see your hand." "That's OK," said Batman. "It's just sore. I'll be fine." "Glad you're on our side, big guy," said Dick to Superman.

"Likewise," said the Man of Steel. "Thank you, Bruce, for coming to my rescue."

"I'd have still done what I had to if you'd been guilty."

"But I wasn't. That makes all the difference."

"This is as nice as Bruce gets," said Dick. "I'd take it and run if I were you."

"Oh no, I forgot," Superman's eyes popped. "Forgot what?" asked Bruce. "My wife, Lois, is investigating something fishy today and she always seems to get into trouble in these situations."

"How can I help?" asked Bruce. "No, you have to keep the Traylors and those lunatics in Arkham in line," said Superman. "You're where you belong. Time to get back where I belong. Up, up, and away!" With that, Superman lifted off.

"Robin picked a heck of a time to get suspended, didn't he?" lamented Dick. "Indeed," said Bruce.


	20. Catwoman's Choice

**Selina Kyle's perspective:**

Selina was cooking herself some bacon and eggs for breakfast in the kitchen of her apartment when she saw a long-eared shadow in front of her. _No! He can't have figured it out._

Selina spun around to see that it was indeed The Batman. "Oh, Yes, Ms. Kyle" he said. "I know the face behind the cat." Selina froze. This was her greatest fear. Though she had done well at escaping Batman so far, without her secret identity, she was vulnerable.

But Selina had a way out of this yet. Ironically, if she pulled it off, it would be preferable to Batman never knowing he she was. She stretched her back and moved her hands suggestively to her right hip and left cheek. "You found your cat-burglar," she said. "she's allll yours."

Batman made no movement towards her. Sensing that his resolve was weakening, Selina advanced twards him slowly and seductively. "Let me help you make up your mind," she leaned in. Her lips were stopped by Batman middle and index fingers. "I can't," said Batman.

"Is the so-called Dark Knight afraid of women?" challenged Selina. "I mean 'I can't' literally," explained Batman. "I'm not the real Batman. You wouldn't feel my kiss."

Selina frowned. Although she knew she shouldn't; the real Batman didn't know who she was after all. "That explains it," she reasoned. "What?" asked "Batman." "Why you came for me in broad daylight. Batman plays on fear. He'd get me in the dark or the shower."

"Don't blame me for your lack of imagination," "Batman" defended himself. That was true. Selina spent much of her childhood and adolescence homeless until she was confident enough to burglarize homes. That no doubt hurt her dreams.

"If you're just a big nothingburger in my head," demanded Selina, "Get the Hell out of my dream. I accept no substitutes."

"Who said anything about me being powerless?" objected "Batman." "I may not be able to make love to you, Ms. Kyle, but people die in their sleep." With that, he put Selina in a martial arts throat lock. Her breath was slowed and sharp pain spread through her neck. She squirmed and kicked to free her herself, but "Batman" had the strength of a bison! The real Batman was strong but not like this! Suddenly, Selina wished that she was a better storyteller.

Selina dropped onto her knees and felt as though she was moments from blacking out or having her throat shredded. "Why?" she weakly asked. "To remind you of the danger of pursuing this relationship," said "Batman." "This is your fate if your charms never take him." A weak Selina silently screamed as Batman's right thumb tore through her throat.

Selina was on the ground with a sore nose. But it was only from falling out of bed. A little touch proved that her throat was fine. The dream was over.

 _That was certainly a dream worth having. That was my favorite fantasy and worst nightmare! And I was told of a third option: kill Batman. Maybe not even God knows how this ends._

 **The Joker's perspective:**

The Joker and Harley Quinn were free.

Nine guards lay dead smiling in Arkham Asylum. Nobody imagined that Joker could use the poison gas of his without a gas mask, which Arkham obviously didn't provide. But what Arkham's security force didn't realize was that the incident that changed The Joker's appearance forever had somehow enhanced his immune system.

Driving a stolen car away, the murderous couple realized that it was sundown and they were still nowhere near Gotham City. They needed a rest spot. The Joker found one in a motorhome after "buying" it from the occupying mother, father, son, cat, and dog with the effective policy of gas.

Harley was waiting for him outside. After all, leftover fumes in the motorhome would be fatal to her. After an hour of work, the Joker came out with his serum.

"'Bout time, Mistah J," cried Harley. She leapt into The Joker's arms and began stroking his hair. She truly seemed to be in love and despite what the overpaid pundits said of her womanhood, she was very forceful about it. The extremes she went to were about the only thing that scared The Joker. He had to laugh about that. Never flinched when dealing with Batsy or the other maniacs in Arkham. What made him feel fear? A loving girlfriend.

"What's so funny?" asked Harley. "Nothing," Joker was anxious to change the subject. "If you want to be my lover, Harley, I need you to go the rest of the way to madness."

"Anything for you, puddin'," promised Harley. Showing her the serum, The Joker said, "Here it is. I've recreated the same formula that made me the laughing douchebag that I am today. One shot and you've gone the rest of the way to madness, not to mention immunity to most poison."

Harley was puzzled. "I thought you didn't remember very far back." "I don't," said Joker. "Maybe I was a gangster who got caught raiding a chemical plant and was accidentally dropped into chemicals by Batsy. Maybe I was a failed comedian who suffered that same fate turning to crime in order to support his family. Or maybe an abusive mother got angry with me and poured chemicals on me when I was a baby. So many memories to choose... but they all agree on one thing: chemicals cured me from the disease some call sanity."

"Ain't that dangerous?" asked Harley. "Mm-hmm," Joker nodded. "But I did work on this. You won't look like a clown like I did. And you haven't a thirty-five percent chance of death."

Harley was panting in teror. "Sorry," she said. "I may be a little crazy, but I ain't mindless."

The Joker frowned. Putting Harley down, he said, "I'm very sorry to hear that, Harley. You see, I accept nothing less than total insanity in my woman. And I'm the greatest guy in Gotham, with the _provisional_ exception of Batman." He drew the pump to the poison gas tank strapped onto his back underneath his suit coat. " _Nobody_ says no to The Joker. Understand?"

"Yeah," Harley gulped. "Gimme that needle."

"Is that a yes?"

"As close to one as you're gettin'." The Joker handed Harley the serum and she injected herself. _If she survives, we're gonna have a lot of fun. If she doesn't, it's still fun for me._

A few seconds after she'd injected the serum, Harley was clutching the spot that she had stuck the needle into. Seconds later, her eyes bulged and her face started shaking. She fell down and smiled.

The Joker gasped as he knew what this meant. "Harley," he yelled. "Harley! What have I done?"

"Gotcha," said Harley. The Joker was a good enough sport to laugh. "You're absolutely wonderful, honey bunch," said Joker, hugging her.

The Joker carried Harley into the motorhome. The next day would be about clipping Batsy's wings, but for now, it was Joker and Harley time.

 **Bruce's perspective:**

The following afternoon, Bruce Wayne was pondering what the plan would be once he again became a creature of the night. He thought on his pursuit of the elusive Catwoman and how the return of The Joker and Harley Quinn had complicated matters.

Not that there was such a thing as a good time for the worst power couple in the world to break out of Arkham, but did it have to be just as Bruce thought he had found the most recent pattern in Catwoman's crimes? Bruce had a difficult choice to make.

Normally, if Bruce had to choose between a serial killer or a burglar, he opted for the killer every time. But with him having a good guess as to where Catwoman's next would be but no clues on The Joker, Bruce took a deep breath.

Batman was going after Catwoman. She may have been less important, but she was the one Batman could deal with right away. Besides, she was the one Batman hadn't caught yet. He couldn't let this blind spot on his record send a message to the Gotham underworld that a model for escaping Batman existed. Criminals had to fear him.

It occurred to Bruce that there was something personal involved. _Admit it, Wayne. You're too proud to not want to catch her and to do it now! More importantly, your feelings for her have become unstoppable! The next best thing is to put her away and force her to go straight so she won't have to stay in prison until Social Security time. And of course, you will be the parole officer._

Of course, there was the issue of how to find Catwoman. So upon returning to the Batcave after work, he ran Catwoman's burglary patterns through the Batcomputer, along with what the best method of attack were. Where intuition had failed, perhaps analytics would prevail.

 **Batman's perspective:**

Batman was on a building and behind a billboard that directly faced Gotham Museum of Art, which Batman's cold, scientific findings told him was Catwoman's next target. This way, even if Catwoman scanned the surrounding area with those nightvision lenses of hers - and she would - she wouldn't spot him. But Batman managed to spot Catwoman with a few valuable paintings exiting the museum out of a hole she had no doubt made in a window. She must have somehow gotten in without Batman spotting her. Better late than never.

Running and leaping from building to building until he neared the museum, Batman, used his Batgrapple to descend to the sidewalk behind Catwoman. Batman threw a Batbola at Catwoman, encircling her.

 _That won't stop her. Better take advantage fast!_ By the time Catwoman had cut the Batbola off her with her claws, Batman had seized her from behind. Stealing a page from Becky "The Hog" Traylor, Batman tightened the hold into a bear hug. Catwoman didn't seem able to squirm free and her arms were held too tight for her to use her claws. She did try to kick back and up into Batman's groin, but he shut his legs tight, protecting his testicles.

Batman's bear hug wasn't quite as refined as The Hog's, but within four minutes, Catwoman was gasping for breath. "You win," she wheezed. "Just let go. I can't breath and my back could go any second. Please don't kill me."

"You don't play the damsel in distress well," sneered Batman. Still, he loosened his grip just enough for Catwoman to breathe well. She began gasping for air and looked at Batman in terror. _Guess she wasn't completely lying._

"Guess my winning streak's over," Catwoman admitted once she caught her breath. She hopped and kicked both legs up and leaned towards Batman so he had to shift his hold to a lover's carry. "You deserve a reward," said Catwoman, leaning in to kiss.

Batman pulled Catwoman's face down to the level of his abdomen. "What's the matter?" asked Catwoman. "Scared if I kiss you, you'll never be able to let me go? Your red cheeks say that you should be."

Catwoman wrapped her arms around Batman's neck and pulled so that her lips inched closer and closer to his. How? Catwoman was one of the fastest and most agile people on earth, but there was no way she could be winning this test of strength.

Unless this sexy woman had already partially corrupted Batman. He couldn't allow this kiss to happen. Catwoman face had gone from desperate to the look of a shark smelling blood. "Sorry, Batman," she said. "I don't give a shit about cold feet. You wanted me? You got me. I'm allllllll yours."

Three kisses were placed on Batman's left cheek. Now Catwoman shifted her face over to give Batman a big wet one and licked her chops. "Look at it this way," suggested Catwoman. "You're about to find out just how strong a man you are." She had a point. Either Batman's fealty to his mission or his disgraceful love for a criminal would win out. He was not greatly optimistic.

Suddenly, Batman felt a sharp and strong force on his right arm knock him forward and over, forcing him to let Catwoman go. Clutching it, Batman stood to see that he had been attacked by a cougar. Catwoman was far from grateful to the beast. "Dammit, Caesarion," she scolded. "I had him!" Turning to Batman, she said, "I see you've met Caesarion."

"After the son of Cleopatra?" asked Batman. "Appropriate choice for an African-American Queen of crime."

"Look who graduated high school. Alas, this sick society stopped me from making it past the third grade."

"You're aware that keeping panthers is illegal without special permission, right? You don't care, do you?"

"Not really. And for the record, he's a cougar."

"I suppose our buddy time will be cut short from now on," Batman heard a familiar voice call from the road. Batman and Catwoman both turned to see The Joker. _No! Not now!_

"From what I hear," said Catwoman, "You and Batman aren't exactly friends."

"Oh, but we are," said Joker. "In fact, I want to give him a little present to show thanks for the vacations he's convinced the boss to give me over the last year. Question is, does he love you or are you just eye candy he'll throw in the trash when the taste gets old. Let's find out."

With that, The Joker pointed his suit flower at Catwoman. Batman immediately hopped in front of Catwoman and used his protective cape to deflect the acid as it squirted out. "Out of here," Batman ordered Catwoman. "Take your pet with you." "What are you saying?" asked Catwoman.

"There will be another night," Batman promised. "Just get the Hell out of here while you still can!" Catwoman fled, signaling and whistling to get Caesarion to follow.

"I'm the one you want," Batman reminded The Joker, who nodded.

 **Selina's perspective:**

Catwoman and Caesarion were in Selina's car. As she ducked in the back floorboard to change back into her street clothes without anyone seeing her, Selina couldn't help but curse, "Dammit! I had him. Probably." That was just it. Batman had gotten out of so many tight spots it wasn't funny! Catwoman had been on the receiving end of Batman's ability to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat; thank God the cops sent a pair of idiots to try and fail to pick The Princess of Plunder up.

Still, she seemed to have once again escaped capture by Batman. Any encounter with the big, dark, yet white guy that didn't end with you locked up went great!

Once she was officially Selina and not Catwoman, Gotham's top burglar took one last look at the fight. The Joker seemed to have exhausted his supply of bullets and had drawn an assault rifle on Batman. No wonder the left side of his suit coat looked so baggy. Batman and The Joker were staring each other down. A classic standoff. Selina knew the moment this ended would be time to go, but she wasn't missing it. _This is gonna be good, even if I know what the outcome's gonna be now._

It was then that Selina saw a short, blonde-haired woman with pigtails in the distance. Must have been Harley Quinn. Sabisia Brown had told Selina that Harley was nuts enough to be The Joker's girlfriend. Harley was holding a baseball bat backwards and reaching back with it. Selina thought about warning Batman, but that would raise suspicions on who Selina really was.

Caesarion seemed more concerned for Batman. "Relax," Selina petted him. "I've seen this movie before. He's got this. You'll see."

Harley chucked the bat and it hit Batman hard! Harley moved in to punish a downed Batman with three more kicks to his unprotected lower face. This didn't surprise Selina. It wasn't like Batman didn't take his lumps. Any minute now, he'd make his comeback. Sure enough, he caught Harley's foot and threw her into the museum wall with it. He delivered a couple punches to Harley, knocking her down. "What did I tell you?" Selina smiled at her pet cougar.

But The Joker, as he was staring at the bulletproof rear of Batman, knocked him back down with the handle of the rifle. Joker and Harley continued hitting him as he was down. _Their style._

As Batman sprawled on the ground from the beating he was taking, four men came out a door across the street from this battle. Joker had obviously planned this. "OK, Batman," whispered Selina. "You can stop pretending the freak's the better man." _Wait, why am I rooting for him? He's my enemy. I've got no beef with Joker. Other than him trying to kill me just for having stolen Batman's heart... never mind._

Selina had seen car pile-ups with less intensity than the one she was watching. Caesarion's concern was growing by the second. Selina hissed to keep Caesarion from helping. "Couldn't help even if we wanted to," said Selina softly so Caesarion could kind of understand. "And I... look, I'm out of costume. Even if we could make a difference, he'd know who we are. I'd be behind bars inside a week. And you'd be spending the rest of your life in a zoo getting pestered by children." Caesarion sat down, looking sad. "Good kitty."

This was it. Batman was down and out. Selina had apparently him too much credit, because The Joker had successfully trapped and was no doubt about to kill him. Against all her instincts, Selina told herself that she should be happy about this. The one person in town with any chance of catching her would soon be dead.

Selina drove away. A low growl from Caesarion got her to look at the animal, who was giving her the "sad eyes" routine. "Don't look at me like that," scolded Selina. "He's our enemy. We're doing the right thing."

And yet, it felt so wrong. Somehow, Selina felt like she shouldn't look back to see if the tide had turned.

Eventually, they returned to their apartment. "Where's the painting?" asked Sabisia. "I must have dropped it getting away," groaned Selina.

"Batman again?"

"And The Joker. They got in a fight."

"Guys. Can't stop fighting. Guess he got his man after all."

"No, actually The Joker got him. He's probably dead by now."

"You didn't try to help?"

"Of course not!"

"I thought you were..."

"Gushing. Half the girls in town have a crush. He may be attractive, but he's also my archenemy. The Joker can have him."

Sabisia waited a bit for Selina to put away her Catwoman suit. "Caesarion looks really unhappy about this," said Sabisia, pointing to Caesarion. He was lying down and looked very depressed.

"I can't help him with that," sighed Selina. "He'll get over it." But Selina couldn't be sure if she herself would get over it. Maybe a shower would help her realize that things had turned out for the best.

 **The Joker's perspective:**

The Joker literally jumped for joy! _I've done it! After four battles, three of which ended up with me in Arkham, I beat Batsy! I did it! I've beaten him!_

"Harley," ordered Joker. "Do a cartwheel. Put feeling into it." Harley obliged. The Joker felt even greater joy as Harley cartwheeled in the spirit of victory.

"Here's your gun," one of The Joker's men held up his assault rifle for him. "Oh, no," said Joker. "He deserves a more dramatic death than that! I'll record a video of this moment, then I want you to take him home. Unspoiled. And Harley? Give him the sedative. He's gotten out of these things before. He's harder to kill than a Kryptonian fly. You did remember to get that sedative, right?"

"I remember _now_ ," Harley tried. The Joker was angry. Getting in her face, he said, "You'd better get it on the way, or you better not be there when I arrive! Understand?"

"Yes, Mistah J," whimpered Harley.

The Joker drove alone to the house of Veronica Vreeland, who had recently gotten the position of Gothic Report's top reporter. Joker entered the bedroom to see Veronica asleep. He awakened her by prodding her face with the barrel of the gun. Veronica awakened and gasped at what she saw. "What do want from me?" she asked firmly but carefully.

"Go back to the newsroom to break the news about the impending death of The Batman," said The Joker. "I have a recording to prove it." Veronica went from frightened to overjoyed. "Tell me more," she jumped on the story of the millennium!

 **Selina's perspective:**

Selina was out of the shower, wearing a bathrobe, and feeling a fair amount better. She saw a very serious Sabisia on the couch, looking at her phone. "Gothic Report's got a news story you're really gonna wanna see, Selina," Sabisia held the phone out for Selina.

Selina took the phone and read the story. Looked like The Joker hadn't killed Batman yet. In fact, he had announced that he was waiting until midnight to do away with The Dark Knight by way of electric chair. It was 9:41 PM as Selina read that. The Joker had promised to deliver Batman's head to the GCPD in the morning.

"I think this is tabloid shit," said Selina. This was more of a wish than a true belief. She didn't want anything to give her second thoughts. Not now. Not when she in position to pull virtually any job she wanted from then on. Still, she turned on the TV and flipped to a local network. "If this is for real," she said, "The local networks and probably the national ones are on this." Sure enough, the news was about how Joker had captured Batman and had promised to electrocute him at midnight.

"Satisfied?" asked Sabisia. "Ninety percent," Selina admitted. "Still a very slim chance that this is all a screwup."

"And in the almost certain event?"

"Joker's crazy to let him live that long... but not dumb. He'll probably sedate or otherwise weaken Batman. He's not goin' anywhere."

"Could someone find him?"

"Uh-uh. GCPD's procedures slow them down too much. Those brats he's hanging out with are amateurs. No way they find him in such a short period of time."

"Guess it's up to The Catwoman."

Selina smiled. It felt good to be needed, but it wasn't happening. "I'm not helping him."

"You're not?" asked Sabisia. Somehow she seemed surprised.

"Of course not," explained Selina. "I know I've told you that I like him, but he won't hold up his end. In fact, he's ashamed to feel anything for Catwoman. He's self-righteous about law and order, you see. I'm not a hopeless romantic. I have a time limit, and it's been reached. It's time for us to get ours now that the getting's good."

"Then you're gonna hear tomorrow that he died because you did..." Sabisia gave a warning.

"Don't you dare try to guilt-trip me," snapped Selina. "I gave him a lot of chances to take me and was rejected. His loss. He's gonna die and..." Suddenly, Selina found herself sobbing. "Forget anything I said," she wiped away her tears. "Listen, Sabisia, as you've guessed all along, I'm gonna look for him. I might not find him. Even if I do, I don't like my chances. I'm a cat-burglar, not a soldier. Batman is a soldier, and he got caught. I probably don't have a chance either."

"But you can't live with yourself if you don't try?" asked Sabisia. "Unfortunately, no," declared Selina. "Catwoman's going out again. Probably not successfully, but even if she's killed by The Joker herself, perhaps dying alongside Batman is fitting."

 **Batman's perspective:**

A punch across the head woke Batman up. It was The Joker. Harley Quinn was to the side. They looked very pleased with themselves. And it became obvious why when Batman tried to squeeze free from the ropes binding him to a chair, only to discover that his strength and mobility were gone. They must have drugged him.

"Thanks to the good word you put in for me at the office," sad The Joker, "I've been on vacation for most of the past year. I finally have a chance to repay you. Batter up, honey bunch!"

The Joker stepped away and Harley moved in front of Batman, posing like a baseball player stepping up to home plate. She whacked Batman across the head with her bat five times. A couple lines of blood trickled down Batman's chin. "Grand slam," yelled Joker, kissing Harley on the cheek.

Things looked bleak. Between the drugging and bat swings, Batman could barely even stay conscious. This looked like the end. Statistics said that Batman should have died at least half a dozen times over a little under three years since he first suited up. Now his war on crime seemed to be at an end. He hoped Robin and The Batgirl had learned faster than they seemed to. Gotham was to be in their hands.

"Say something," demanded Joker. " We're all friends here. It's not like we're about to kill you." _Why did he have to be the one who got the lucky break? This grinning murderer is going to make my last moments Hell, isn't he?_

"I know where to start," said Harley. "How's Robin? Has the kid started dating yet?"

Keeping them talking might give Batman a chance. Probably one in a hundred thousand. "Yes," said Batman. Alfred had told Bruce Wayne that while he and Talia al Ghul were out of the country on a mission, Robin had kissed Batgirl.

"How sweet," Harley said softly. "Cute couple?" asked The Joker.

"Better than the one I see," said Batman.

"You're a rude houseguest. Just for that..." The Joker reached into his suit and out came a revolver. At least this wasn't being dragged out too far.

"Say Batsy," said Joker. "I know that Halloween costume of yours kind of protects you from bullets. Does that mask? Because I would think it would have to be less effective to keep from cramping breathing."

Batman nodded.

"Let's see how it protects from a point blank range shot." As he took aim at Batman's forehead, Harley started humming The Funeral March.

Joker pulled the trigger. Instead of a bullet, a small flag labeled "Bang!" came out. He and Harley began laughing hysterically. Batman didn't find this to be very funny, though.

"That makes two out of three having fun," noted Batman. "You just can't... take a joke." huffed Joker, tired from laughing so much. "Did you think... I'd kill you so soon... or quick? When you... when you die, it's gonna be a lot more dra-dramatic." He and Harley continued laughing.

Batman wished The Joker would get it over with. He seemed intent on making this not only The Dark Knight's last night, but also his worst!

 **Selina's perspective:**

The good news was that asking around had gotten Selina a lead on the suburb where The Joker was holding Batman. The bad news was that Selina hadn't been able to find where in that area they were. She'd searched all the warehouses and other attractive areas for a fugitive's home and still no sign of laughing boy or the mansel in distress.

 _11:19. God dammit! I've gotta find 'em before midnight._ Still, Selina was getting more anxious. She needed something to calm her nerves.

She drove around to pick out the fast food restaurant that she would be getting coffee from. She needed a special kind. Getting out of her car, she asked a nearby man, "Excuse me? I'm new to this part of town. What place serves the best coffee?"

"Normally," said the man, "I'd say McDunnell's. But I just got out of there and the clerks look scared. I'd go somewhere else to calm your nerves."

That may have been Selina's big break. "Thanks," she said this as best as she could without blowing her cover.

 **Batman's perspective:**

Batman was strapped into an electric chair. The Joker's four men were looking on as Harley Quinn beat a drum terribly. The Joker himself was dressed as a security guard. "Batman," he declared. "You have been found guilty of ruining my fun and taking several months of my life away. Any last requests?"

"I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of seeing me cry, Joker. You can go to Hell!"

"Not before you're in heaven, where I wouldn't be caught dead," laughed The Joker, flipping the switch. The electricity flowed.

 _Mother, Father, I'm coming._

 **Catwoman's perspective:**

Selina Kyle had done her part. Time for Catwoman to take action. "You stay in the floorboard, handsome," she said sternly to Caesarion, complete with finger wagging. "They don't allow pets here, especially you. Don't look at me like that." Caesarion meowed his disappointment but did as he was told. Selina smiled. "I know mama's being mean to her boy, but it's meant to be. There's a good chance I'm not coming back. If not, they'll discover you sooner or later, and you'll have a new life."

Catwoman was a thief at heart, not a thug. The first part of her mission might be hard. She entered McDunnell's, intent on getting answers. "Freeze," she heard a man say. It was one of two cops, one of which holding a pair of handcuffs. "You're under arrest Catwoman," said the one with the cuffs.

"You have a right to remain silent," said the other one. "Anything you say may be used against..." a side kick decked him before he finished. Stunning the first one with a claw strike, Catwoman delivered three knee strikes to the gut to drop him to his knees. Leaping up and stomping his head on the way down finished him. The second cop had gotten up. A roundhouse kick fixed that.

"I know every man here wants some of this," Catwoman motioned to her own body. "Got the guts to try and take it? Didn't think so." She turned to the clerks to see that one of them had a phone. A crack of Catwoman's whip and wagging of her finger and everyone behind the counter froze.

"Do you know The Joker?" asked Catwoman.

"I-I don't know," said one.

"Nervous and knowing what I'm talking about," frowned Catwoman. She knelt on the counter and showed the clerks her claws. "You assholes come clean... or else!"

"We'll get killed if we tell you!"

"What makes you think I won't?"

Another of the four clerks finally walked up to her and whispered, "He's in the basement. Happy?"

"Much," whispered Catwoman. "Uh-uh-uh," she said to a customer trying to sneak up on her. "Like I said, look, don't touch. Or you'll need stitches." The customer backed off, eventually into his seat.

"Before I was so rudely interrupted," Catwoman whispered to the clerks again. "I was going to warn you that the investigation after this will probably get you busted. Sorry. Stay. You've got IDs. They'll find you." She pointed to the one white person, a young male, in the group. "I see you're not very comfortable around black people," Catwoman noticed. "Straighten up. You'll see a lot of us where you're going."

Catwoman descended to the basement. She heard a speech by The Joker that sounded like a parody of an execution. _Looks like I got here just in time._

Eventually, Catwoman heard electricity working. Had to be an electric chair. It was deep enough underground that the customers wouldn't hear. _What do I do now? If Batman couldn't handle these people, neither can I. And I don't have time to be clever and stealthy about this._

Or did she? She had, after all, intimidated the clerks. She went back up to the main place and leapt over the counter. "Break the fuses," Catwoman quietly ordered. "Tell your 'homies" that it was an accident. Don't argue with me. They have a... an acquaintance of mine. If he dies, you die!"

"I'll do it," said one. "Remember," Catwoman reminded him. "You can't get away from the cops - or me - by running." He must have understood, because soon after he left the whole restaurant went black.

By pulling her nightvision lenses over her eyes, Catwoman could see in the dark like the cat she was. She went back downstairs, stopping only to press against a wall to clear a path for The Joker's four henchmen, obviously wanting to know what was going on.

The only tricky part was getting past The Joker and Harley Quinn without getting spotted. Fortunately, they had no lights and were angrily sitting in chairs a good distance from Batman. With difficulty, Catwoman sneaked past them and got to Batman's chair. He was unconscious, so Catwoman felt his throat. He had a pulse. Catwoman smiled.

 _Don't celebrate yet._ Catwoman used her claws to remove the screws holding the manacles over Batman's arms. _These locks are amateur hour._ Placing Batman's right arm around her neck and her left arm around Batman's waist, Catwoman carefully dragged him up the stairs and out of the building. Into Selina's car they went.

Batman was still unconscious. _Good. Even if he wakes up, he needs a license plate to connect me to Selina Kyle. Only hard part is figuring out why I've gone to all this trouble for a sworn enemy. You better appreciate this, Batman!_

Just to be safe, Catwoman got out and threw away the license plate before drving towards the area where she and Batman had last fought. Halfway to the area, Catwoman heard Batman groaning. "Welcome back," Catwoman smiled at him.

"Where are we?" asked Batman.

"On the way to your car."

"The last thing I remember is getting electrocuted by The Joker."

"I saved your ass!"

"I was afraid you'd say that."

Caesarion moved onto Batman and began licking his face. "Not surprised he likes you," said Catwoman. "He helped talk me into this."

"Is it just he that likes me?"

"You flatter yourself," Catwoman said in a hard-to-get way.

"Enough small talk," said Batman. "When we get to the Batmobile, I'm taking the both of you to GCPD headquarters."

Catwoman was shocked! "What?! If it weren't for me, you be dead!"

"I've got rehabilitation envisioned for you," Batman explained himself. "You'll thank me in a year, so from my point of view, this _is_ paying my debt to you. Besides, my duties to this city supercede any debt. This is something you can never understand."

"Betrayal aside," Catwoman saw she wasn't changing Batman's mind, "How can you take me in? I don't even know if you can walk. How can you take me in, asshole? Hell, with how ungrateful you are, why shouldn't I kidnap you?"

"I have gas pellets and know how to shield myself from them," rebutted Batman. Catwoman didn't.

"But I can take off your mask," argued Catwoman. "Then I've got leverage." Batman began laughing out loud. "What's so goddamn funny that even you have to laugh at it?" demanded Catwoman. She hadn't even thought that Batman could laugh.

"You couldn't bear to let Joker kill me," Batman put everything together. "And now you're threatening to ruin me? You don't have it in you."

Catwoman sadly focused on the road. Batman was right. Catwoman realized that she had been betrayed by love. It was about to put her behind bars. The ugly ending of her dream had been more prophetic than she realized.

 **The Joker's perspective:**

The lights came back on. "Now where were..." The Joker paused to see Batman out of the electric chair, though it had reactivated after the power came back on.

"Looks like he's gone," explained Harley Quinn. "I know that, you idiot," said Joker.

His henchmen came back down the stairs, also shocked that Batman had escaped. "You should've had us get flashlights, boss," criticized one.

"Uh-oh..." said one of the other three. "You just committed suicide, chowder head," said a more festive Harley. The Joker picked up his assault rifle, set it to let out single shots, and nailed the unfortunate Antonin Butoro. The reader hardly knew him.

"Batsy hasn't won anything," declared Joker. He's weak from the electricity, though if he makes it back to the Batmobile, he's got a recovery period coming. Let's go put that wounded animal out of his misery!"

 **Catwoman's perspective:**

Catwoman knew that she should have listened to the voice in her head telling her to let Batman die. Now she was helping Batman to his car to be taken to jail. Caesarion was following. "Don't try making a break for it because I'm not one hundred percent," warned Batman. "If I'm awake, I can shoot straight."

As they neared the Batmobile, they heard a voice say, "Bad cat. He's mine."

Batman and Catwoman looked to see that The Joker, Harley Quinn, and three henchmen had tracked them down. Joker had an assault rifle and others had an automatic pistol apiece except for the athletic Harley, who had two.

"Weren't there six of you?" asked Batman. "He had a big mouth," explained Joker. That explained it.

"How cute," sad Harley sarcastically. "The Catwoman's come in the man of her dreams' hour of need. We'll be sure to bury you dipshits together!"

"I have a plan," whispered Batman. He always seemed to. "Just keep them talking." He used his cape to hide what he was doing.

Catwoman released Batman and held up her arms. "She's right, Joker," she said. "I came to help Batman, but I shouldn't have. You're just too great a criminal. He couldn't stop you, so what was I thinking? Why even try?" _Little do you know, you're gonna eat these words!_

Or not. Catwoman saw out the corner of her eye that Batman wasn't finished. "Did I mention that you turn me on?" Catwoman made up something to buy Batman more time.

"You'd better tell her that _I'm_ your girfriend," demanded Harley. "She's right," said Joker. "You're a pretty one, but she'd kill me. Bye-bye, guano and flea farm." He and his accomplices all aimed their guns.

Suddenly, a gas bomb shot out of the front of the Batmobile and hit the ground near The Joker and company. Catwoman heard a lot of coughing. Batman had done it again. She was about to motion for a high-five before she remembered that she was also on Batman's list despite having saved his life.

Out of the gas cloud came The Joker and Harley. Catwoman's jaw dropped. "Our mutation has left us immune to all but the deadliest of poison," explained Joker. "So sorry."

"We'll see who'll be sorry," said Catwoman. Using her matchless speed, she whipped the pistols out of Harley's hands and cracked the whip again on The Joker's rifle, ruining the aim but not knocking it free. Catwoman hissed and pointed at Harley to sic Caesarion on her.

Caesarion dived at Harley but was caught under the chin with a backflipping kick. Retrieving one of her guns, Harley said, "Gotta put you down, ya mangy beast!" But Caesarion clawed Harley on the wrist to make her drop the gun, then tackled her and started roaring. Harley was frozen with fear.

Meanwhile, Catwoman was cartwheeling and flipping to avoid The Joker's bullets. Eventually, the magazine emptied. He reached for his suit flower but acid was easier to dodge. Catwoman maneuvered up close so she could cut off the flower with her claws.

Catwoman dodged what looked like a slow punch by her standards and responded with a low kick that dislocated Joker's left knee. He fell, clutching the knee in pain and screaming. Catwoman stuck all ten claws into his gut to hurt him some more. "Don't kill him," demanded Batman.

"Relax," said Catwoman. "I'm just punishing the son of bitch. I know my limits." She faced a moaning Joker. "And for the record, the idea of being with you makes my fur stand up," Catwoman cleared the air, then administered the knockout kick.

Catwoman again hissed, this time to get Caesarion off Harley. By now, Harley was mentally paralyzed. Catwoman lifted her up into a kneeling position.

"You're screwin' up," said Harley. "You're a dumbass if you think savin' him means he'll let you go, much less live happily ever after with you. To him you're no different me an' Mistah J. Face it, Cats, you're not good enough for him. Walk away. Let us kill 'im an' we're all free!"

"You're right about all that," said Catwoman. "The answer's no." _I said what? I had a chance to avoid prison and be rid of pointy-ears? Why? Maybe because I had to._

Harley frowned. "And they call me an' Mistah J crazy. You are one pathetic doormat, you know that?"

"I can't argue with that," said Catwoman. "But I'm sure you can relate, can't you?" Before Harley had a chance to argue, Catwoman had punched her out.

Catwoman turned to Batman. The front of the Batmobile was a straight line from Catwoman. "You'll never get a cleaner shot," she said.

"That's right."

"It really doesn't matter that I saved you, does it."

"It doesn't matter more than Gotham. Almost, but not quite."

"Don't make this harder on both of us. Just gas us and get it over with."

"I will... after a thirty-second headstart."

That was music to Catwoman's ears. She quickly lead Caesarion back to Selina's car and hit the gas! They had to get clean away before those thirty seconds were up. Once again, Catwoman felt that she'd better not take another look back at Batman. She no longer trusted herself to not go to prison for her Dark Knight.

 **Selina's perspective:**

"How'd it go?" asked Sabisia.

"Two things. Number one, he owes me."

"Good for you, girlfriend," Sabisia held her hand up. Selina slapped it.

"The other thing is that he kept saying that he'd take me in anyway, although he didn't in the end. This amorous war is getting more and more interesting..."

 **Bruce's perspective:**

Back in house clothes, Bruce had climbed the stairs into Wayne Manor. "Thank Heaven you're safe," said Alfred, running towards Bruce and hugging him.

Bruce groaned in pain. "I was electrocuted," he explained. "I need a good night's sleep or two."

"Sorry."

"This night revealed flaws of mine that I have to work on. First, where's Dick?"

"Robin is looking for you."

"Call him. Tell him I won't add to his suspension for violating it. Second time I've gone soft this night."

"What was the first time, sir?"

"For once, Batman didn't save the day. The Catwoman rescued him. Even in his weakened condition, he had a chance to bring her in once and for all but let her go."

"Why?"

Bruce thought on this. "Would you like the excuse or the real reason?"

"How about the excuse first?" grinned the jovial Alfred.

"I owed her so I let her go this time... but only this time. This is the real reason: she felt betrayed that I was going to take her to the police on the night she saved my life. So I let her go. Because if I didn't, I knew she'd never speak to me again."

 **Hope you enjoyed this story. I think twenty chapters is enough. I'm taking a 2-3 week break. After that, I'll do a new fanfic set a year after the events of this one. Look on my profile for that when the time comes.**


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